


Binary Suns

by StRegis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Found Family, Just Hurt/Comfort all around, M/M, Mandalorians are Emotionally Constipated, Slow Burn, The Book of Boba Fett, Touch-Starved, but in a sweet way, i have been personally victimized by the season 2 finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StRegis/pseuds/StRegis
Summary: Facing the aftermath of Grogu's recent departure, Din can't help but be drawn to what feels comfortable-- familiar.  Boba Fett, in this case.Shared life experiences and limited options help bring two very similar Mandalorians together.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin & Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Din Djarin/Boba Fett, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Boba Fett
Comments: 24
Kudos: 193





	1. Being a Single Not-Dad for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my best friend who planted this idea into my brain! Aaaa.
> 
> Mandalorians facing their emotions head on while also traveling the galaxy are very important to me.

Din can recall a handful of times in the recent months that made his entire life completely change. 

Whether they were big, earth-shattering moments like when Grogu’s pram opened and they met eyes for the first time, or small moments like passing the unscrewed knob to the greedy child’s little hands in the cockpit of the Razor Crest.

The doors of the turbo lift sliding closed feels like one of those big moments. The child, something so important and pivotal in his life, is suddenly gone within moments. And Din always knew that it was bound to happen. He had tasked himself with returning Grogu to his own kind where he would find home. 

Never in a million years did the Mandalorian imagine he would find home within the lost little one. The journey to find Grogu’s home changed Din’s own definition of home. Home is where he feels comfort and belonging, purpose and companionship. Grogu was his family and Din felt at home with the baby. But now he’s gone and that little family is separate and there’s nothing he can do. He can’t run after the Jedi and take the child back, claim that he’s changed his mind. Even if it tears a hole in his chest deep enough to house a sarlacc, Din decides it’s for the best and there’s nothing he can do to change the outcome.

Now, he’s left with a new reality: his family is gone and he had just removed his helmet and revealed his face to a room filled with people, for the second time in his life. The first shouldn’t have even happened, but at least everyone who had seen him is either dead or lying about what had happened. Din can’t kill this roomful of people this time around. He’s broken his creed and now everyone he knows knows about it.

The silence that follows the closing doors of the turbolift is heavy and tense, each person too uncertain or uncomfortable to break it. Even the Moff is quiet, seemingly unconscious on the floor after Cara Dune knocked him upside the head with the butt of her rifle. 

Din’s faced with a complicated decision. Stoop to lift his helmet from the floor and replace it on his head, continuing his life in secrecy as if nothing had happened. Or turn around and face the choice he made, head on. Literally.

Stiffly, Din leans down to scoop the beskar helm from the floor and tucks it under his arm, swallowing nervously and clenching his jaw before he finally turns to face the group standing behind him. Instantly, he studies each reaction facing him. 

Cara averts her eyes, as if she herself isn’t sure if she’s allowed to look back at him. Bo-Katan and Koska exchange glances and Din can’t decide what’s going through their minds under their helmets either. Disappointment? Satisfaction? He remembers the scrutiny he faced from them when they first met. The disdain they held for the Children of the Watch. He sees Fennec meet his eyes, which feels strange. Din isn’t used to people purposefully looking into his eyes. At least with the helmet on they didn’t know where exactly to look. And finally, Boba Fett. Somehow, the opinion of the other Mandalorian bounty hunter means more to Din than Bo-Katan or her counterpart’s combined. With his helmet on, Din can’t discern a reaction in the other Hunter.

Regardless, Din doesn’t particularly care now that his mission is complete. At least now he doesn’t need to force himself to be around other people he doesn’t consider his friends.

“So that’s what you look like under there.” Cara says, breaking the silence finally. Din glances at his boots and taps his fingers against the ear cover of his helmet, hardly knowing how to respond. It feels the same way as when Mayfeld saw his face for the first time. He called Din Brown Eyes. It feels wrong, knowing now that his previous, faceless identity has been shattered and replaced. He broke his creed and there’s no going back.

Boba Fett turns and the visor of his helmet glances toward the unconscious Moff Gideon. “I suggest we get going before that one becomes a problem again.” he warns, looks at Fennec, and nods. She’s already moving to cuff Gideon’s limp wrists in a pair of binders, then she and Cara lift him up off the floor. With the distraction of a task, Fett crosses the room to brush shoulders with Din, then stops, still facing the doors. “You gonna put that back on or turn it into a doorstop?” he asks and turns his head to meet gazes with Din. Din can see the reflection of his own teary, surprised eyes in the T-visor of Fett’s helmet and, feeling nauseous at the sight, he quickly slides his own helm back in place. The weight against his crown is a welcome one, like a security blanket calming his racing heart.

It feels just as wrong to put it back on as before, but Din would rather wear it than feel naked and exposed without it. He doesn’t know how to cope with the loss of his identity, everything his life had been dedicated to. It’s just another way Grogu had changed him. Just a few months before, he would have rather died than remove his helmet in front of another living being. He almost did die for the sake of his creed, only using a loophole to narrowly save it. If only IG-11 could see him now, willingly removing his helmet just so he could meet the eyes of the child he fought tooth and nail to save and protect.

What does this mean for his future as a Mandalorian? Din himself isn’t sure and maybe he can just bury that uncertainty, fear, and guilt deep down until he’s alone; again. No baby to stop when he wanted to touch all the controls in the cockpit. No razor crest to return to and curl up in the little bunk. Everything that was familiar to him is gone, but Din doesn’t have time to process it now.

They’re moving to get off the light cruiser as fast as they can before Gideon wakes and tries to put up a fight. The halls are littered with damaged remains of the dark troopers. Severed droid limbs and crushed metal make it look like a battlefield. Din’s thankful that the Jedi aren’t enemies of Mandalorians anymore when someone like Luke Skywalker could easily decimate a battalion of dark troopers. A lightsaber could do unspeakable damage to any material, other than beskar. What proved to be a difficult fight for Din turned out to be child’s play for the Jedi. Din saw on the security cameras with his own eyes how easily the dark troopers went down. It’s hard to imagine that Grogu could ever be taught to fight so ruthlessly. Well, Din has witnessed the infant swallow frogs and eggs whole without an ounce of remorse, so maybe he is capable.

Boba Fett leads the way down to the docking hangar where Slave 1 is parked and even more dark trooper remains await them. Fennec and Cara pull Moff Gideon up the ramp and onto the ship, his chin tucked into his chest and the heels of his boots dragging against the floor as he’s carried beneath his arms. The two stow him away in the prisoner hold where he’ll keep quiet until Cara hands him over to the New Republic. A great way to step into her new position as the New Republic Marshal of Nevarro.

Din can feel newfound tension between himself and Bo-Katan as everyone settles in Fett’s ship. The weight of the darksaber at his hip is an unsettling reminder of that. With everything that had happened, the darksaber is the last thing on Din’s mind now. He doesn’t want to consider what it means for him, because, truthfully, he doesn’t care. Ever since he met Bo, he knew that her mission was to reclaim the blade that had been stolen from her. It’s the mark of the ruler of Mandalore and Din isn’t prepared to take on such a responsibility. Still, he isn’t thrilled about potentially having to fight Bo-Katan over something he hardly cares about or wants in the first place. If only she had just taken it from him when he offered it to her. 

The weapon is shrouded in ridiculous rules and traditions, but Bo also made the same claims about Din’s creed, so he probably isn’t one to judge. Still, he can feel the way she looks at him, now that she has taken her helmet off and her green eyed stare feels even more piercing and filled with resentment. She and Koska sit together across from Din while Cara takes her place at Din’s side, folding her arms across her chest as she slouches casually in her seat. Slave 1 takes off and, as it orients itself into the upright flying position, the deck remains steady as the rest of the ship rotates around it.

“So what now?” Cara Dune asks. Din cocks his head to glance at her, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. He says nothing, waiting for her to either elaborate or give up and leave him be. “You took the helmet off. I remember you telling me that you’d never be able to put it back on.” she continues, regardless of his silence, and dusts some invisible lint off of her pants when she notices Din has been staring at her for too long.

“I’m not really in the mood to get into it.” Din finally breathes, his voice breaking as Slave I lurches into the silent tunnel of hyperspace. He feels like he’s going to break down again, but he’s not about to do it in a room full of people. The absence of the little child aches more deeply than Din ever expected. “Excuse me,” he manages and stiffly stands. He’s beginning to feel claustrophobic and Din can’t blame the roomy interior of Fett’s ship this time. It’s the people. Everywhere Din looks there’s someone in his way, someone looking back at him too. They all saw him without his helmet, his face and identity completely exposed. He can’t stand to remain in the same room with so many people who know what he looks like. Every anxiety and fear that he tried so hard to shove down and hide away is threatening to bubble up to the surface. Like a bad ration pack that could make someone sick.

He sneaks away to the crew quarters below the main deck, feeling briefly disoriented when the artificial gravity keeps his boots glued to the floor, even when he knows the ship is flying upright. Inside the room there are two bunks inside a wall alcove and what might be an armory behind a set of doors in the wall.

He sits heavily on the floor once the hatch slides shut behind him, feeling shaky and out of breath. Is this what it feels like to have one’s life flipped completely upside down? No ship to return to, no child to hold in his arms, no creed to take solace in. Still, Din thinks of the Armorer back on Nevarro. All alone with only her devotion to the Way to keep her company. He hopes she was able to find other Children of the Watch to care for, just like she had done for their covert. Din won’t be welcomed back to them if they knew what he had done.

It’s hard to remind himself that the choice was worth it when the one he sacrificed so much for was gone. Little Grogu with his impossibly big eyes and downright disturbing desire to eat anything that moved and was small enough to swallow. Din never admitted it to himself before, but Grogu was his chosen family- and now he’s gone. “Kriff,” Din swears as he drops his helm into his hands as he allows grief to weigh him down. He’s alone, so he can indulge in the emotions he so stubbornly locked away. He chokes, letting stinging tears flow when his mind continues to replay visions of the child behind his eyelids. Cruel memories that Din would cherish— once they stop hurting, of course. It was for the best, he tries to remind himself yet again. But why can’t he be a little selfish? Maybe just for a moment he could resent that Jedi that took his found family away. As if Grogu meant nothing to the Mandalorian, the Jedi stole him away so easily without so much as a second glance. 

The sudden sliding of the door tears Din out of his spiral and he lifts his head so fast, he bangs the back of his helmet against the durasteel wall behind him. It’s definitely not a position he wants to be seen in, huddled on the floor with his knees to his chest and quietly crying underneath his helmet. To his surprise, it’s Boba Fett who’s standing in the doorway. Now the bounty hunter is without his own helmet, so Din can see the look of surprise written plainly on the man’s scarred face.

Before Din can collect every last scrap of his dignity and jump to his feet, Fett smacks the button on the doorframe with the heel of his palm, shutting and locking the hatch behind him. The two hunters are shrouded in a heavy silence, as if they’re both shocked by the situation they find themselves in. As if Boba Fett hadn’t purposefully closed the door and locked them in the room together. Maybe he’s just as surprised as Din.

“Did you… want to sit here?” Din asks incredulously, pointing to the floor. He’s ready to bolt and pretend none of this ever happened if Fett is on the same page too.

“Not really, no.” Fett answers and opens and closes his mouth for a few moments, seemingly trying to come up with something to say. His back is stiff as a board as he turns and awkwardly takes a seat on one of the bunks just a few feet away from Din. He’s just thankful he’s still wearing his helmet, or Fett would be subject to his tear-streaked face— again. Finally, the silence is broken by the most unexpected anecdote possible. “I, um, I lost my father when I was young.” Boba says, still looking just as awkward as Din feels. 

Is it his way of trying to relate to Din’s problem? It feels so left field, but it isn’t necessarily unwelcome. “He’s the one who gave you your armor?” Din asks, deciding it can’t hurt to go along with Boba’s lead.

“Yes, I had to pull it from his dead body, but he would have wanted me to have it.” Boba goes on to say, the words leaving his lips so casually, he could be talking about tomorrow’s weather forecast. Now Din is more confused than anything. He isn’t sure if this story is meant to make him feel better or if Boba is just in the mood to share.

“I am… sorry to hear that.” Din says after a beat of silence and he notices Boba staring at him. He doesn’t know Boba’s past, but he can see the age in the man’s eyes, the things he’s seen and the struggles he’s lived through. There’s more to Boba Fett than meets the eye.

Boba opens his mouth to speak and the words he chooses surprises Din to his core. “We’re not so different, you and I.” he says and folds his hands in his lap.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone say that, mostly because everyone he has ever met knew plain and simple that Din is very much not like them and they will never be like Din. He’s a lonesome bounty hunter who’s very good at his job and maintains his reputation through stoicism, intimidation, and being damn good at his job. But maybe Boba might be on to something. No one else has ever been able to relate to Din’s life until now.

“I'm sorry you had to part from your little one...” Boba continues awkwardly and Din tries hard not to choke beneath his helmet. “You sacrificed so much for his sake and even if letting him go was the right thing to do, that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.” the bounty hunter says and slowly extends his leg to Din to tap him on the thigh with the toe of his boot. 

It’s painfully obvious how much they both struggle to handle emotions, but maybe that’s what makes the gesture all the more meaningful. Din doesn’t know Boba and Boba doesn’t know Din, but they find a similarity just strong enough to draw a connection.

Boba pauses, a hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he glances back at Din’s visor. “Forgive me, I’m unfamiliar with all of this.” he admits and, somehow, it breaks the tension. Din’s shoulders relax. “I’ve been in your position, in a way, and I was alone.” Boba continues.

“I’ve only felt this way once before and it was when I lost my family.” Din admits, earning a dry laugh from Boba. 

“Mandalorians and losing parents appears to go hand-in-hand. What a crime.” Fett says and slowly slides down from his seat on the bunk to sit on the floor across from Din. “But you haven’t lost your little one, not forever.” he adds and, surprisingly, it makes Din feel better.

He stares back at Boba, confused by the closer proximity. It’s no secret that Din doesn’t often choose to take company with others and he certainly doesn’t seek comfort with others either, so Boba’s behavior sets him on edge. Boba Fett doesn’t seem like the kind of person to offer emotional support either. It is, however, helping, so Din isn’t about to question it and break the spell. Even if it does feel incredibly foreign to him. “I can only hope we will meet again.” Din sighs, lowering his visor to stare at the floor and Boba’s boots with how close the other hunter is sitting.

“You never can expect how fate brings people together.” says the other hunter, then he pauses “I heard from the princess that you’re very strict with your armor.” Boba says after a few beats of silence between them. “But you removed your helmet, so what does that mean for you?” asks the hunter as he shuffles even closer to Din.

Din doesn’t notice and touches the edge of his helmet bordering his jaw. He does feel a sense of defeat, knowing he’s broken his creed. By the law of the Watch, he shouldn’t even be wearing his helmet now, but it’s all he’s ever known. “We are only permitted to remove our helmets in the company of family. If anyone else sees our faces, we’re banned from putting the helmet back on.” he says “But… Grogu was family to me and it felt wrong to leave him without ever revealing my face to him. In the chance that we might never see each other again… I wanted him to know what I actually looked like.” a pause, then Din looks back at Boba, who has a pensive frown creased between his eyebrows. He’s a quiet man, much like Din himself. It feels almost strange to be speaking as much as he is now.

“Perhaps it doesn’t need to be so black and white,” Boba finally says “I honor my father’s armor as it was inherited to me, but it isn’t my identity. Six years searching Tatooine without it taught me some well-needed independence. There’s a chance you could still honor your beskar without relying on it for your identity.” Boba suggests.

It isn’t a terrible idea and it doesn’t feel like a betrayal to Din. Knowing it’s impossible to never wear the helm again, Din knows that learning to live in between is his only option. “I suppose you’re right.” he says and lifts his hands to remove the helmet, the chilled, recycled air of the ship hitting his cheeks. It still feels wrong and foreign to show his face to another living being and he averts his eyes as he wipes his face on his sleeve, sniffing. Sometimes he has to adjust to light, sound, and temperature with the helmet off. Even when he was alone on the Razor Crest, Din seldom showed his face. It was just easier that way. 

He can see Boba studying his face as if Din is a complete stranger he’s trying to memorize. Din doesn’t want to consider what he himself looks like as he rubs gloved hand across his cheek, raw with tear tracks. He clears his throat, feeling awkward and exposed again. 

“There’s a vulnerability in removing our armor.” Boba says, voicing out the very same thing going through Din’s mind. It occurs to him that Boba was right— they are hauntingly similar.

“And you said you survived Tatooine without it?” Din asks, earning a nod from Boba.

The man sitting across from him, practically toe-to-toe, brushes his fingertips across the jagged scar along his cheek. “Six years.” he repeats.

Din doesn’t want to pry, but he gets the sense Boba is easy enough to talk to. He can’t be the only one spilling his woes out on the floor for Boba to listen to. “What happened?” he asked “With you losing your armor?” Din then clarifies.

A flicker of something dark reflects in Boba’s brown eyes and he sucks his cheek in thought, almost as if he isn’t sure where to start. Or how much he should elaborate. “Familiar with a sarlacc?” he asks and Din feels too stunned to answer, a look of blank surprise and disbelief forming on his face, which actually makes Boba chuckle and shake his head. “Don’t look at me like that because I’m not pulling your leg.” he says with a tone of seriousness in his voice.

Din shakes his head, frowning “If you’re telling me you got into a fight with a sarlacc, I’ll say you’re full of it.” he warns, which makes Boba laugh even more. Din rolls his eyes, now feeling like he’s being mocked. He flaps his hand in Boba’s direction and the other hunter mockingly mimics the action in Din’s face.

“I fell into the Great Pit of Carkoon on Tatooine, well… I was more or less pushed in.” Boba mutters bitterly. It’s clear there was a fight and someone shoved Boba into the maw of the creature. Whoever it was, Din can only imagine what Boba might do if he ever got his hands on that person again. “Anyone would presume me dead, but the stomach acids of the sarlacc work slowly and, considering the creature swallowed me whole, it was only a matter of climbing my way out.”

“But what about your armor? How did it become separated from you after you escaped the monster?” Din asks, now cautiously absorbed into the story. It certainly isn’t everyday one hears about a human climbing their way out of a sarlacc and surviving, considering the reputation of the creatures. Every Tatooine local knew to avoid the sarlacc at all costs. No one ever returned from a sarlacc encounter. 

Din wouldn't believe Boba if it weren’t for his scars. Boba would possibly look younger without them. He has thick, curly black hair that's been flattened by his helmet and a scar cuts through one of his eyebrows, creating a split. Din can guess that he’s maybe in his mid-thirties. He must be younger than him, but not by much. Din can tell that the scars are mainly from chemical burns with the way the skin is pulled tight over the healed wound-- possibly from the foul stomach acids of the sarlacc. A laceration wound doesn’t scar shallowly like these do. He can’t imagine what Boba went through when he fought his way out of certain death.

The look Boba gives Din makes the answer seem obvious. A roll of his eyes, a lopsided smirk. Din feels like he’s being made fun of right to his face. “Jawas.” Boba says and Din releases an understanding groan, dropping the back of his head against the durasteel wall behind him. “I collapsed in the desert after freeing myself and they must have thought I was either dead or the beskar on my back was worth more than my life. I woke stripped of every piece of armor and weapon I had on my body… They took one of my boots too…” Boba says, rubbing his jaw.

“Dank Ferrik… I’m not surprised they would do such a thing…” Din sighs “Jawas stripped my ship on Arvala-7.” Mentioning the name of the planet makes Din feel like he’s choking again. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling to avoid tearing up all over again. The planet where he met Grogu and took him in. At the time, he made the mistake of handing the innocent little baby over to an ex-Empire warlord, but it was also the very same planet where Grogu saved Din’s life for the first time. The amount of times Din’s been saved by an infant is downright embarrassing, but he got a pass considering said infant had magical powers.

Din must have gone silent because Boba scoots himself closer and turns to press his back to the same wall Din is leaning against. “Thinking about your ship or your companion?” he asks and Din turns watery eyes to the side to glance at the other hunter, surprised by his deduction.

“Um, the latter.” he wheezes, hardly missing how their shoulder plates touch as they sit together on the floor. “I met Grogu on Arvala-7…. He saved my life even though I was his enemy at the time, but… I suppose he didn’t know that.”

Boba hums and makes an awkward attempt to comfort Din by tapping his hand against Din’s thigh plate. He purses his lips, realizing it isn’t as successful as he expected. Din stares at him and sniffs as he averts his gaze to their boots. The silence feels uncomfortable, like two emotionally stunted men attempting to spill everything they ever kept bottled up inside. Almost. “So he was a bounty?” Boba asks. Din’s silence is enough of an answer, so Boba stares at the ceiling, trying to think of some way to change the subject. “I didn’t say anything before, but that Jedi that took your boy was present at the Pit of Carkoon.” Boba says, his expression turning to a hateful sneer. “It’s because of him that I fell.” he turns to face Din, who’s frowning worriedly now. “No need to worry… Just because I had a fight with Skywalker doesn’t mean he’s going to cause any harm to your child. I didn’t bring it up because he’s your ally, even if he isn’t mine.” Boba lets out a sigh and Din feels like it’s his turn to offer some awkward comfort.

“I can’t imagine any of that was personal, though.” Din says and nudges his elbow against Boba’s arm. “We’re bounty hunters and survival is in our name. In a way, I aided in Fennec’s death, but she’s my ally now through you.” Din says. “It’s over and you won’t be expected to face Skywalker again, though.”

Boba slouches against the durasteel, his shoulder leaned against Din’s, seemingly lost in thought. Another nudge from Din brings him out of it and Boba leans up to stand. “It’s a small galaxy out there, Mando.” he says with a forced smile and gives Din’s cheek a pat with his gloved palm. “Allies are more important than any well paying bounty we come across, hm?” he adds and withdraws his hand. “We should be returning to drop off the Princess and her companion soon. Join us on the deck when you like.” he says before turning on his heel to approach the door again.

Din sits up and retrieves his helmet from the floor to follow Boba, meeting him at the exit before the doors can slide open. “My name is Din.” he quickly blurts out. “Um, it sounds strange when you call me by that alias, considering you’re a Mandalorian too.” he fumbles over his words, but Boba smiles back at him, eyes meeting even with Boba standing just a few inches shorter than Din.

“Din,” Boba echoes thoughtfully and reaches across Din to push the door lock on the wall, causing Din to shrink back when the reach forces Boba to lean close to him. “Join us on the deck, Din.” Boba says softly as the doors slide open and he steps out and climbs the ladder up to the rotating deck. 

Din takes a moment to calm down his heart’s quick beating in his chest and he places the helmet back over his head, pushing the button on the hatch to open the doors. He climbs up the same ladder that Boba took and reaches the deck where Cara is sitting with Fennec and across from them are Bo-Katan and Koska who talk softly between each other. Din doesn’t miss the way Bo’s eyes land on him, then shift down to where the darksaber is attached to his belt. He chooses to ignore her and finds his place in a seat beside Cara and his attention is drawn up another ladder to Boba Fett’s cockpit. He’s glad he’s wearing his helmet again or it would have been obvious to anyone else that he’s staring at Boba, beginning to wonder what goes through the mind of the other bounty hunter now.

Slave I drops out of hyperspace with a lurch and through the domed glass, Din can see the approaching planet where they met up with Bo-Katan and Koska before their rescue mission. “Still too late to hand over the darksaber?” Din asks, his visor now turned toward Bo-Katan.

She stares back at him, green irises filled with contempt at the offer. “Don’t insult me,” she huffs as Koska sits up, ready for a fight if one should break out.

“I don’t plan on fighting you, so your options are narrowed.” Din says, unbothered by Koska’s threatening posture. He’s not afraid of a woman who acts like an attack dog. Din doesn’t notice the rest of the ship rotating around the deck as Slave 1 lands on the surface, but he does watch as Bo-Katan stands, her back straight and her posture proud. Just like a ruler.

“And what if I don’t give you a choice?” she asks seriously as she picks her helmet up and tucks it under her arm. “I’m sure if I start shooting, you’ll have no choice but to fight back.” she threatens coolly, sizing Din up as she stands before him.

“I think that’s enough nonsense talk for now.” Boba interjects as he jumps down from the cockpit, his boots slamming against the floor with his entrance. “I believe this is your stop, Princess.” he says with a side eye directed at Bo-Katan and her companion. “I’m certain we can return to this dark saber issue at a later date.” 

If looks could kill, Boba might have dropped dead by the glare he receives from Bo-Katan, but the hunter subtly places himself between her and Din. Fennec is focused on the pair like a predator, ready for a fight to break out. “You’ll be hearing from me. That darksaber belongs to me, Mando.” Bo says, but she nods to Koska and the two turn to step off the ship, walking side by side back to their own ship across the clearing.

“I didn’t need you to tell her off.” Din tells Boba, quieting when the other hunter turns around to face him with a frown. “I can fight my own battles and I have no interest in starting one with Bo-Katan.”

“Is that so, Mando?” Boba challenges and suddenly it’s like a completely different man is standing in front of Din. Or at least different than the one who sat beside him in the crew quarters only minutes ago. Boba frowns and pushes past Din with a rough shoulder check as he passes. What’s even more confusing is Fennec’s careless shrug, as if Boba’s change in behavior is completely normal. “Keep that up and she’ll walk all over you.” Boba calls over his shoulder.

Din doesn’t intend to let Bo-Katan walk all over him, as Boba warned, but it doesn’t change the fact that he isn’t sure what to do with the darksaber still. He isn’t careless enough to sell it or throw it into the void, so his only option is to keep it. For now. Until Bo-Katan either steals it or finally manages to pick a fight with Din. That, he isn’t looking forward to. If he throws the fight, he knows that’ll just insult her further. And if he takes it seriously, one of them could end up seriously injured— or dead. Grogu still sits on the forefront of Din’s mind, so he isn’t rushing to get himself killed in the meantime.

They don’t stay on the planet for long and Boba is already starting up the engines to Slave I and taking off, so Din finds a seat back on the deck with Fennec and Cara. Fennec leans back in her seat with her hands folded across her stomach, her head back against the wall with her eyes closed peacefully. She looks like she’s sleeping, but Din can’t imagine her letting her guard down that much, even if they’re all friendly toward one another.

“So what’s going to happen with Gideon?” Din asks as he sits across from Cara and Fennec. He purposefully puts himself out of Boba’s view from the cockpit after the other hunter snapped at him. The shift still confused Din and he isn’t about to pry and get answers.

Cara smiles a proud, smug smirk and twirls a lock of her hair around her index finger. “Max New Republic prison, most likely. Either he’s getting a life sentence or an execution for all of the war crimes he committed under the Empire. Don’t forget that heavy bounty over his head.” she says and glances between Fennec, who isn’t paying attention, and Din across from her. “I figured you three could split the reward and you’ll be set for a while.”

Din briefly remembers the Razor Crest, destroyed in the inferno from the ion cannon. He can use that bounty money to get a new starship, even after he had formed an attachment to the old ship. It had been through a lot with Din, but clearly there was no coming back from it being completely obliterated. And Din thought the crash on Maldo Kreis was bad. “I could get a new ship.” he sighs, earning a grin from Cara.

“See? That’s an idea. Let’s face it, anything’s better than that Razor Crest.” she says with a laugh, which wakes Fennec from her nap. The assassin sighs and folds her arms tighter against her chest as she rests her head back against the wall again. “If you want a nap, you could go downstairs.” Cara reminds her, to which Fennec shakes her head and tunes her out.

It dawns on Din that he can’t remember the last time he got any sleep. Ever since Grogu was taken, he’s been restless and working nonstop to track down Gideon to get the baby back. At least two days have passed since the incident on Tython. It isn’t very uncommon for him to function on very little sleep and what’s most shocking is how awake he feels now. Even after everything and now knowing that the child is safe, Din hasn’t felt this on edge in a while. Perhaps he feels panicked knowing he doesn’t have a familiar ship to return to, or anyone to rely on him like Grogu did. He could always take Mayfeld’s advice and get a pet.

Cara’s voice draws Din out of his thoughts and he glances up at her, frowning beneath his helmet. “I was asking what you plan to do now that Gideon has been captured.” Cara repeats.

Din has to consider his answer for a few moments before he shrugs. “Go back to collecting bounties, I guess.” he answers. It’s all he’s ever known and he actually enjoys the work. It’s good money and he has the opportunity to travel wherever his work takes him.

Cara nods with a smile “Then I’ll be seeing you on Nevarro more often. I’m positive Karga will be thrilled to have you back. You’re his best hunter, after all.”

Din doesn’t find himself in the mood to be receiving all of this praise and he hums as he moves to stand. “Maybe I’ll go rest… wake me when we arrive,” he says on his way back down the ladder and to the crew quarters. 

The silence of the room is more satisfying and Din feels like he can take a full breath when he’s alone. Sure, he’ll miss Grogu’s coos and whines, but silence is always welcoming enough to the bounty hunter. He picks the bottom bunk in the wall and sits, reaching to remove his helmet and set it down on the floor beside the bunk. As soon as he’s sitting in the dimmed room, the exhaustion hits him like a mudhorn. All Din wants to do is lay back and sleep for a few hours, or days. 

He hardly gets a minute to collect his thoughts before the hatch doors slide open and, in a moment of panic and pure instinct, Din covers his face with both hands.

“That’s a funny way to rest.” a familiar voice rasps at him and Din drops his hands into his lap, watching Boba cross the room to open the doors against the opposite wall. Just as Din suspected earlier, there is an armory behind the sliding doors. The entire wall is filled with various rifles and blasters, along with vibroblades and other tools that Din can’t guess the use for. “You trying to take a nap?” the other hunter asks as he draws his blaster and hangs it up on the wall, along with his own helmet.

“Trying is a good word,” Din replies and scoots back on the mattress to press his back to the wall, feeling the need to wait until Boba leaves.

Boba seems oblivious to Din’s waiting until he glances at him over his shoulder. “And you like to sleep upright like that?” he questions and points a sharp object in Din’s direction. “A little odd, but I can’t judge I guess. Fennec tells me I talk when I sleep.” At this point, Din isn’t sure if Boba is talking to annoy him or because he’s completely unaware of Din’s desperate need to sleep.

He takes in a slow breath to calm himself, but the frustration in his eyes is impossible to hide. The strained tone in his voice is also very telling as he speaks. “Are you here to bother me or what?” he asks and, to his surprise, Boba pauses his search through his armory and turns on his heels to face Din. He looks surprised, so maybe Din was wrong. Maybe he just didn’t notice.

“Let’s go with ‘or what’.” Boba says and slowly crosses the room to stand just a few feet away from Din. “You seem tired.” he observes and Din nods, exhausted and defeated. His eyelids are so heavy, he can hardly keep them open wide enough to stare up at Boba.

“I haven’t slept in maybe two or three days.” Din sighs and scrubs his hands over his face, then cards his fingers through his messy waves.

Boba shakes his head and clicks his tongue, tapping Din underneath the chin with the pointed object he was holding earlier. “I can imagine it’s hard to sleep with all that beskar on you.” he says and flips the tool between his fingers.

“I’m used to it.” Din points out, earning a head shake from Boba. He looks disappointed, which makes Din scowl with a scrunch of his nose.

“We have a few hours of hyperspace travel ahead of us. Get comfortable and sleep or you’ll drop when we reach Nevarro.” Boba says and knocks Din’s knee with his own as he turns to put the tool back in his armory, then shuts the doors. “I could... stay if you like…” he then offers, something in his voice sounding awkward and unsure. As if he doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’ll get from Din.

Din isn’t even sure he knows how to answer that. He rarely sleeps with others present, save for the child and the Frog lady he transported not too long ago. She was an exception because she had a trustworthy demeanor and definitely not a full arsenal of weapons, like Boba. “Maybe not after you told me you talk in your sleep.” Din answers and he knows it’s the right thing to say because Boba lets out a sarcastic, dry laugh. 

“Alright, then move.” Boba says and flaps his hand at Din, gesturing for him to scoot aside on the bed. “This is my bunk, anyway.”

The look Din gives Boba is one of cautious confusion, brows furrowed, his head cocked. He isn’t sure if Boba is joking or if he’s being plainly serious. Din Djarin doesn’t cuddle with other people when he sleeps. Plain and simple. There’s no way to know if he’s going to be stabbed in the ribs while he’s asleep or not. 

He holds a hand up when Boba steps closer, now impossibly close with their knees touching. Din’s hand is pressed to the abdomen plate of his armor. “You’re joking. This is a joke…” he says, still unsure. Maybe… it won’t be so bad. Din allowed Boba to sit beside him just a few minutes ago and maybe having company would help him feel better about the impending loneliness of his future. For a man who lived almost his entire adult life alone, it’s surprisingly hard to return to that lifestyle after a few months of constant company from a little being who couldn’t even speak.

Boba’s eyes narrow in thought and he takes a half step away from Din, the pressure from the hand on his armor leaving. “It.. is a joke.” he agrees, realizing he’s misstepped. “See, you must really need some sleep if you thought I was serious.” Boba chuckles, a gloved hand patting Din’s cheek as the other hunter blinks with heavy eyelids. Din frowns as he watches Boba pull away, prepared to leave the room. He panics, now convinced that maybe having some company won’t be so bad after all.  
“Wait,” he says and reaches out to snag the fabric of Boba’s sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. “I-- suppose I am taking up your bed.” he says lamely, trying to cover up the fact that he’s asking for Boba Fett to stay with him. He lets go of Boba’s sleeve once he notices the other Mandalorian staring at him, also appearing unsure in the way his eyebrows knit. Din scoots himself on the bunk to offer some space for Boba to sit.

Now it looks like it’s Boba’s turn to be unsure, but he lifts his hands to scoop his thumbs under his back plate, lifting it over his head. “Fine, but unlike you, I like to be comfortable when I lay down.” Boba says as he drops the beskar to the floor, then removes the flak vest that carries the rest of the torso armor. With the vest, the vambraces come off, leaving Boba in the same black tunic he wore when they met on Tython. “And I’m guessing you’re perfectly fine in all of that?” he questions as he moves to sit in the free space on the bunk.

Din watches Boba like he expects the man to turn and start strangling him. Trust is a skill that doesn’t come easily to Din, but he’s trying his best.  
“I don’t bite-- much.” Boba says with a teasing grin, causing Din to stutter and scowl.

“One more word out of you and I’m changing my mind.” Din gasps and pats himself down, making sure all of his armor is still in place. He feels exposed enough without the helmet, there’s no chance he’s taking anything else off. “I’m perfectly comfortable like this, thank you.” he adds and folds his arms in front of his chest.

Boba gestures to the mattress beneath them both. “Okay, then lay down.” he says and reclines to lean against his elbow, as if Din needs a demonstration. “If you’re so comfortable, Mando.” Boba hums. It feels like a game of chicken to see who will break first and scramble off the bed to get away from the other. 

Din isn’t going to back down. It appears like Boba isn’t either.

That’s fine with Din. He can play this game too if Boba thinks he can get a reaction out of him. Din shuffles to lay down fully, letting out a sigh as his back hits the mattress. His feigned comfort must convince Boba, because the other man frowns subtly and rolls onto his side to face Din, who stares back at him. “If you keep staring at me, we might have a problem.” Din whispers softly and Boba’s face breaks into a smile as he turns over to lay on his back and stare up at the bottom of the bunk right above them. They could have easily avoided sharing and one of them could have gone up on the other bed. It’s possible that they both wanted to end up in this position.  
Having the warm body beside him actually does wonders to Din’s restlessness, to his surprise. His shoulders relax and the tension in his neck disappears. His heavy eyelids close and he feels like he could doze off within moments. He barely even notices or cares when Boba shuffles even closer to him, then rolls onto his side with his back flush against Din’s side. Din’s too tired to worry. He hasn’t slept in three kriffing days.

The position Din wakes up in is a very unfamiliar one. He managed to roll over onto his side during the night, which is no real surprise considering how he prefers to either sleep sitting straight up or on his side. His forehead is pressed to the center of Boba’s upper back and Boba must have fallen asleep too, because one of his boots has wedged itself between Din’s knees. Din hasn’t moved to assess the situation, but as far as he can tell, Boba is out cold and softly snoring. For a peaceful moment, Din thinks he can fall back asleep.

That is, until a pinging noise from the ship alerts Boba Fett. The other Mandalorian roughly jerks his arm back as he wakes to the noise, elbowing Din in the jaw. He doesn’t seem to notice Din’s hiss of pain and climbs off the mattress. Din, however, isn’t about to let Boba leave without suffering some kind of consequence for the elbow to the face. He swings his leg out to kick the back of Boba’s knee once he’s standing, causing it to buckle and the hunter collapses to the floor like a rag doll.

Boba turns to gawk in shock back at Din, running a hand through his own curly bedhead, clearly caught off guard. Din rubs his jaw as he sits up, beginning to think the knee buckle wasn’t enough of a punishment. They share a glare at one another before Boba stands and dusts himself off, scooping up his armor in the same movement. 

“Well that was rude.” he says as he slides on his flak vest and each of his gauntlets.

“That was rude? What about you elbowing me in the face?” Din argues, watching as Boba shrugs and picks up his back plate to lock it into place on his shoulders.

“Why was your face where my elbow could have gone?”

“Why did your elbow jerk like that?”

There’s no winner to the argument and Slave I pings again. Boba glances up at the ceiling where the sound came from and points a finger in Din’s direction as he makes his way to the door. He taps the button on the wall to open the hatch, his gaze never leaving Din’s face. Din isn’t sure what the pointing is supposed to mean, but his eyes follow Boba until he’s through the hatch and the doors close behind him. “Ass…” Din mutters as he scoots off the bunk and stands to stretch, rubbing his face with his hands to clear the fog of sleep out of his eyes.

It wasn’t the most pleasant way to wake, but Din feels very well rested and satisfied with his nap. He stretches his neck and leans down to pick his helmet up from the floor and lower it over his head. As he approaches the door, he stumbles a few steps when the ship jerks beneath him. Either they’re being attacked or they’ve just dropped out of hyperspace. Din finds it hard to believe they’ve already arrived at Nevarro. How long exactly did he sleep?

When he joins the others on the main deck, one glance out the windows shows Nevarro’s nearing landscape. The trip through hyperspace was at least four hours, so Din must have slept through the entire ride. It’s disorienting, in a way, when he’s so used to being the pilot and the rare sleeper.

“Have a good nap?” Cara asks, pulling Din out of his thoughts. He turns around to face her and nods. “So you’re thinking about staying a while in Nevarro? You don’t have a ship, after all.” She stands and stretches as she glances out the transparisteel as they near the town. Slave I rotates around them as the ship slowly lands and Cara turns to smile back at Din. “I think Karga will be more than happy to have you back.” she says and turns to step off the deck, which is now level with the hall that leads to the ramp.

Fennec helps Cara retrieve Moff Gideon, who’s now awake and lucid enough to walk with them, still cuffed in the binders. Gideon doesn’t have the chance to address Din, but he could only imagine more taunting from the Imperial. 

After everything the Moff had done to cause harm to Grogu, Din wouldn’t really mind another fight. Why the Empire wanted the innocent baby so desperately, Din didn’t know, but he also didn’t care. There’s no logical reason for anyone to hurt such a creature. He would have gladly killed Gideon if it weren’t for Bo-Katan’s grudge or Cara’s need to lock him up with the New Republic. He’s lost in thought and Din’s boots feel glued to the floor until he hears Boba’s footsteps join him.

“I suppose I should apologize for hitting you.” Boba says awkwardly in the silence and Din turns to face him. The look on Boba’s face shows just how much of a struggle it is just for him to apologize. He looks uncomfortable and nervous and maybe a little apologetic. Din supposes he can’t stay too mad if it did turn out to be an accident.

He shrugs “Could have been worse.” Din replies. “It could have been my eye.”

Boba cracks a smile, which feels rare and special just for Din. Boba’s resting face usually looks troubled or angry, so it’s slightly unnerving to see him smile with his eyes. “You’ll be more hesitant to take the helmet off around me, huh?” Boba teases and Din comes up with a quick response which makes him smirk beneath his helmet.

“And you’ll be more hesitant to lock your knees when I’m around now.”

The little smile on Boba’s face only grows, but he rolls his eyes and turns away from Din to stand beside him, now looking down the hall and the ramp of Slave I too. “What do you plan to do now? Now that your task is complete?” he asks, a tone of curiosity in his rough voice.

Din hadn’t stopped to consider it, but not only is his task complete, but so is Boba’s. When they met, Boba and Fennec promised to help save Grogu in return for Din returning the armor to Boba. But now Grogu’s safe and they aren’t sworn to each other anymore. They can part ways. Din isn’t sure he wants to be alone just yet, but he isn’t about to invite himself to stay with Boba Fett.

Din shrugs and settles his hands on his belt buckle, rolling his shoulders as he considers his answer. “Taking bounties, I guess.” he says. “That’s what I did before I met Grogu and I’m good at it.” He shrugs again and turns on his heel to pick up the Rising Phoenix from where it’s leaned against the deck and clicks it onto his back plate.

When he looks back at Boba, he realizes the other hunter is watching him with the familiar frown etched into his scarred features. Din takes a moment to study one of the deep scars that cuts down the side of Boba’s face. Through one eyebrow and down to the corner of his lips. “You need a ship.” Boba says, breaking Din out of his thoughts.

He nods and sucks his cheek beneath his helmet “Easier said than done.” Din replies as Boba shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “Once I have a ship, then I’ll go back to taking bounties.”

What Boba says next is very unexpected “I have a ship. Come along with me. We’re both hunters and I have some plans to bring in more bounties and more money.” he says, sounding vague about whatever plan he has. Maybe he doesn’t want to spill it in the case that Din turns him down and steals Boba’s plan for himself. Which he won’t do, of course. Din doesn’t fight dirty and he doesn’t care about competition.

Boba’s request makes Din recall his time back on Arvala-7 and the offer he made to Kuiill when he left. At the time, it was the first time he had ever offered someone to join him. Kuiill was a peaceful creature who offered a lot of mechanical help and the occasional bit of wisdom, but he would have also provided Din company. And now, the idea of having some loyal company is enough to convince Din to stay. Din trusts Boba after everything the hunter did to help save Grogu, even when he didn’t need to do anything at all. “I have nothing better to do.” Din says, shrugging, earning a humored scoff from Boba.

“Playing hard to get, eh?” he responds and leans to the side to nudge his shoulder against Din’s. “Let’s go into town and see about getting some supplies.”

The town is just as lively as the last time Din was here. It was only a few weeks ago, so that’s no surprise at all. Since the shootout with the Empire, the population seems to have grown beyond smugglers and bounty hunters coming in and out of town. There are families and children running about the downtown area. 

Din sees the school where he had dropped Grogu off on his last visit, and he hears the noisy chatter of excited children from inside. It makes his heart ache a little, but a nudge from Boba’s swaying shoulders as they walk helps him focus. Din would possibly think the lack of space between them is odd, but he feels comfortable. 

Considering they shared a bed not even an hour ago.

The other bounty hunter has donned his helmet in such a public space and Din sees the looks of awe and concealed curiosity they receive as they walk down the main road of the town. The market is busier with new booths and storefronts than Din remembers from his time with the covert. He’s glad that the little town has gained such popularity with a better reputation, thanks to Cara Dune sitting as New Republic marshal. And with a better reputation comes better business. For average civilians and bounty hunters alike. Din knows Greef Karga has been very happy with the changes.

“So what kind of supplies are we looking for?” Din asks with his head slightly turned toward Boba. The other hunter glances around the market and back to Din.

“Food, medical supplies. Anything you might need on a job.” he answers with a shrug and continues to walk, but not after he lightly taps the underside of Din’s gauntlet with his hand.

Din isn’t oblivious enough to miss the little touches, or how close Boba is keeping to him It doesn’t upset him, though. Surprisingly. There’s something about Boba that makes him easy to be around and easy to talk to. It could be their shared life experiences bringing them together.

Din gives Boba’s hand a soft swat, trying to be playful, but his stomach jumps when Boba catches his hand and gives it a brief squeeze. Din thinks they lock eyes behind their visors, but there’s no true way for him to know. Boba lets go as if nothing had happened. “Touch me again for no reason and I’ll have you on the ground.” Din threatens, but it’s empty and he doesn’t actually intend to punish Boba for something he kind of liked.

“Here? Around all these people?” Boba muses and shakes his head. Din can only imagine he’s rolling his eyes beneath his helmet. “Then how about we split up? You collect anything you need. I’m sure your marshal friend will be by to hand off the bounty for the Moff.” he says, changing the subject.

Maybe Din might start second guessing his decision to tag along with Boba and continue working with him. Especially if he’s going to be annoying the entire time. “Fine,” he says, leaning closer to Boba to see if he’ll get a reaction out of the hunter “We’ll split up.” 

Boba doesn’t lean away like Din would have liked, but he nods and they turn away to take separate paths through the town market. There are booths with local and imported produce alike, and Din buys some fruit and tucks the handful of green and yellow sweet-smelling fruits in his satchel. 

He passes by a storefront selling colorful fabrics and clothes. Against his better judgment, he pauses and steps inside the shop and a shopkeeper greets him with a soft voice. Din doesn’t know why he’s here, because he definitely doesn’t need to buy clothes, but he sees a basket filled with stuffed toys made of soft and pastel colored fabrics. It makes him think of Grogu and he grabs a frog-shaped toy and tests the weight in his hands. Grogu would have liked it maybe. He passes the shopkeeper a few credits and shoves the toy in his satchel.

Back outside, Din continues through the market. There are more merchants selling produce with crates and baskets filled to the brim with colorful fruits, vegetables, and flowers. Some Din has never even seen before. Usually fresh items don’t keep well over long periods of time, so he only looks as he passes. 

He steps into a weapons and ammunition shop in search of more cartridges for his blaster and curiously stares up at a wall of rifles. His Amban rifle was destroyed along with the Razor Crest. The only thing that survived the explosion was his beskar spear and Grogu’s ball. Din knows he should buy another pulse rifle, considering how reliable the previous weapon was. 

A scruffy looking older man is reclined in a chair behind a counter with his boots lazily propped on the countertop. He’s picking at his fingernail while a radio chatters in a different language nearby. When Din approaches, the glint of his beskar catches the man’s eyes and he lifts his head, suddenly attentive. 

“Can I help you?” he asks with interest and lowers his boots down from the counter to stand from his chair.

Din scans his eyes over the array of rifles above the man’s head. “You have any pulse rifles?” he asks, “I’m in the market for a new one.”

The shopkeeper hums thoughtfully and glances over his shoulder at the weapons on display behind him. He gestures to a long rifle on the wall “This one right here, but…. They’re hard to come by, so it’s pretty pricey.” he hums, lifting his hand to rub his fingers together.

Din suppresses an annoyed sigh, but rolls his eyes behind the helmet. He has a feeling he’s going to get a bad deal. “Try me,” he replies, hardly amused by the game the merchant is trying to play. 

“Two thousand credits.” the scruffy man says, folding his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his face. 

Din lets out a huff of a breath that could have been mistaken for a laugh, judging by the way the shopkeeper smiles smugly. He takes a step closer and plants his palms on the countertop, leaning in as the other man uncomfortably shies away. “It’s because of me you have any business in this town.” he says, clearly frustrated with the shopkeeper for trying to pull a fast one over his head.

The older man frowns, then his eyes grow wide as he looks Din up and down carefully. “Are you the Mandalorian who fought off the Imperials?” he asks, standing up straighter, but taking a cautious step away from Din. As if he isn’t sure whether or not Din is going to lash out at him. “You really saved my business there. If it weren’t for all of the new people coming into town.” he says, then stammers as he turns to pick up the long barreled rifle from the wall. He sets it down on the countertop and Din takes a step back, staring over the weapon. It reminds him of the Amban rifle in its length and the body of the rifle is shaped the same, since they work the same. “I’ll get you a discount, how’s that sound?” the old man suggests as Din lifts his head to address him.

The silence tells the man he’s waiting for a price. The shopkeeper wrings his hands as he studies the rifle. “How about six hundred?” he offers. It’s a much better price that Din shouldn’t turn down.

The Mandalorian lifts up the rifle, testing its weight with the buttstock pressed to his shoulder. He stares down the sight and adjusts the magnification, then sets it back down. It feels like a quality weapon, so Din nods. “I’ll take it. And a case of cartridges for the rifle and an IB-94 blaster.” he says and slings the rifle over his shoulder as he digs into his pocket to find the right amount of New Republic credits, then passes them over.

“Pleasure doing business,” the old man says, stroking his scraggly beard as he counts the credits in his hand, the metal shimmering and clinking together.  
Din doesn’t respond and leaves the weapon shop with his new rifle and ammunition in tow.

Once out of the shop, Din stops at a few booths to collect any other supplies he hasn’t gotten to. There’s a booth that sells non-perishables like ration portions and a surprising variety of soups sealed in jars. By the time he’s finished, Din’s satchel is weighing heavier on his shoulder.

Locals give him a wide radius, but they’re polite and they don’t stare too much. Families mill around in wonder with baskets filled with wares from the market. Children chase each other across the uneven cobblestones while their parents shop and barter, smiling and laughing. When he’s in public, Din feels most like a loner. He doesn’t like the eyes on him or the way people whisper to each other when he passes.

It’s most unnerving when they stare at his beskar like he’s a meal. Din has lost count of how many times his armor has been threatened. It’s no matter to him because he can and will kill over the sacred metals protecting him, but it’s still not a pleasant feeling.

He spots Boba Fett across the center of the marketplace speaking with a merchant who appears to be selling various dried meats. A staple of the lava planet. He approaches and stops at Boba’s side, only catching the end of their conversation as the seller passes Boba a bundle wrapped in butcher paper. The bounty hunter sets it in his elbow and turns his head to address Din. “Get everything you need?” he asks as he passes a few credits to the merchant. 

Din nods and falls into step beside Boba as they leave the stall. “More than I expected.” he says and shrugs the shoulder his new rifle hangs from.

“Impressive.” Boba says once he catches a glance at the new weapon. “Especially after everything you owned burnt up in that ship.” he says, but his chuckle fades as Din shakes his head. “Too soon?” he asks with a gentle elbow nudged against Din’s arm.

“Just a little.” Din replies with a shrug. At least he has the silly little frog toy to remind him of the child.


	2. Being Emotionally Vulnerable for Dummies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Thank you for all your sweet comments and kudos, it means a lot to me. I was too excited to wait until Monday to release this chapter, so I'm going to start the updates on Fridays.
> 
> There's Mando'a dialogue in this chapter, so look to the notes at the end for translations.  
> Enjoy! <3

By the time Din and Boba return to Slave I, the sun is setting over the lava planet’s black horizon and Cara Dune and Fennec are waiting back at the ship. It’s golden hour and the volcanic, craggy surface of the planet makes for interesting, long shadows. It definitely feels different than a Tatooine binary sunset-- much less blistering hot.

Fennec is comfortably reclined on the slope of Slave I’s ramp, chatting with Cara as the shock trooper shoulders her travel bag upon the arrival of the bounty hunters. They must have been unloading the ship of her things while Din and Boba were out buying supplies.

Fennec lifts her head and sits up, crossing her legs. “About time. Find anything good?” she asks and pats the little cloth sack sitting in her lap, making Cara chuckle.

Cara digs into her bag to grab two cloth bags identical to the one Fennec has. Metallic jingling comes from the bag and Din understands what it must be. Their portions of the Moff Gideon bounty. 

He extends his hand out to retrieve the bag when Cara reaches to hand it off. “After this, you know Karga will never get off your back about taking jobs.” she teases just as Din opens the drawstring to peek inside at the shimmering durasteel chips. It’s more than he imagined and suddenly his rifle purchase doesn’t feel so hefty on his wallet anymore.

“After this, I’m not so sure if I need to rush to take another job anytime soon.” Din says as he drops the sack into his satchel.

Cara lets out a breath of a laugh and shakes her head “He’ll hunt you down. You know how sought after your reputation makes you. He doesn’t stop talking about it.” There’s a pause as Cara looks between Din and Boba and she smiles almost bittersweetly. Like she’s actually going to miss them or something. “Well, I’ll see you around.” she says. Din holds his hand out toward Cara, which she takes, clasping her hand around Din’s forearm and he squeezes her arm briefly in return before letting go.

Once the goodbyes are said, Fennec stands and stretches before climbing the ramp back onto the ship. Boba follows her lead and Din is on his heels too. Together, they drop all of the supplies off in the storage compartment of the ship where there’s a pantry for foodstuffs and cooking utensils, alongside a storage cabinet for any other repair tools, medical equipment, and spare ammunition. Din empties his satchel of all the fruits, soups, and ration portions he bought at the market. They must have been thinking alike, because Boba lays out an equal stash of the same preservable foods, plus an additional pile of jerky and dried fruit slices he bought.

Even as they organize, Din realizes they haven’t said a single word to each other since they left Nevarro City. And he’s alright with that. Silence around Boba Fett is just as comfortable as quiet conversation.

Din is the first one to break the silence as he pulls ammunition cases out of his satchel and tucks them away in the other storage cabinet. “So where are we going?” he asks and glances back at Boba right as the other hunter removes his helmet. Boba shakes out his hair and lets out a breath as he sets the helmet on the floor beside him.

“Tatooine.” he answers casually and shuts the pantry door, locking everything inside in place so it doesn’t rattle around during travel. He stands and picks up his helmet to tuck it under his arm, ruffling his hand through his hair after his curls have been flattened by the helmet.

Din stares up at Boba from behind his visor, frowning with curiosity. He isn’t sure what’s so important on Tatooine that would make it worth going back. Maybe it has to do with Boba’s personal plans. Or maybe his six years wandering around the desert planet weren’t enough for him to absolutely hate it. “What’s on Tatooine?” he asks and stands, picking up his satchel and his rifle.

“Other than sand and Tuskens?” Boba responds, bringing in his dry sense of humor once again. Maybe he knows that it gets on Din’s nerves when he doesn’t answer questions directly. “An old friend.” Boba supplies.

It’s still frustratingly vague, but Din supposes he isn’t in the position to demand more information. He’s just along for the ride and he consented to it, so there’s no way he can complain. “Good to know,” he deadpans, admitting defeat. There’s no way he’s going to make Boba explain everything, so he’s just going to have to handle vague explanations for now.

Boba gives Din’s back a pat before he’s turning on his heel to continue down the hall, then makes a sharp turn into the crew quarters. Din follows, but only because he needs to drop his rifle off in the armory and the rest of his personal supplies with the bunk.

When the doors slide open, he sees that Boba has removed more of his armor to get comfortable, and he’s in the process of putting his weapons away safely in the armory cabinet. Din slides in beside him to hang his rifle where there’s space, reaching over Boba’s head and earning a glare from the shorter man.

“You could wait,” he says plainly, as if being reminded of the mere four inch height difference is the harshest insult he could receive.

Din doesn’t see a problem with what he’s done and he frowns back at Boba, even if he’s wearing his helmet still and Boba can’t see him. “I didn’t see a need to,” he replies “You stand close to me all the time.” Din adds, trying to make sense of Boba’s clear annoyance. 

Surely it can’t be because Din is slightly taller than him. 

The firm hand grabbing onto the chest plate of his armor, however, makes him realize otherwise. 

Din’s body actually jerks with the strength of Boba yanking on the edge of the beskar. His helmet would have knocked against Boba’s face had the other hunter not quickly lifted the bottom edge of the helmet over Din’s eyes. It’s the closest Din’s ever been to Boba, feeling the warmth of his breath on his own face and meeting his brown eyes just inches from his own. 

“Reach over me again, and I’ll break your knees.” Boba says and his very calm, almost sweet, tone is an unnerving juxtaposition to the fury in his eyes.

If Din felt as if he were in any real danger, he would have broken out of the hold, but he remains still. He wraps his hand around Boba’s wrist, squeezing to dislodge the tight hold on his beskar. “If the opportunity ever arises, I promise you, it won’t be easy.” Din says and his voice is soft in the short distance between them. It’s his turn to grab a fistful of the front of Boba’s tunic and keep him from pulling any further back. “And don’t ever remove my helmet for me,” he adds in a lowered tone.

He sees the way Boba frowns with a deep crease between his eyebrows. His expression goes tight and his lips purse, as if he isn’t used to being put in his place. Din has no doubt in his mind that Boba Fett can and will put up a good fight, but it’s plain and clear that he doesn’t want to start one at all. Din sees something dark swirling in Boba’s eyes now that he’s close enough to notice the subtlest of shifts, but the firm hand still on his chest plate from Boba causes Din to loosen his grip on the tunic. 

They take a half step away from each other, the tension remaining, but at least it doesn’t feel hostile. It feels like something else that Din can’t describe. He’s about to feel concerned, but Boba scoffs and rolls his eyes and all feels right again. 

“Do you plan to sleep on the floor or am I going to have to bunk with all that cold beskar again?” Boba asks with his eyes averted from Din, now focused on removing a set of knives from his boot and setting them down on the shelf in the armory cabinet.

Din lets out a long suffering sigh and pulls his helmet off all the way, figuring there’s no point in leaving it half on now that Boba pushed it up high enough to show his face. “I told you, I don’t remove this armor.” he says stubbornly.

“Not even if you’re surrounded by friends?” Boba asks, now turning his head to meet Din’s eyes. The anger is gone from his expression, but the resting frown is still there. “It’s obvious that I don’t plan to stab you in your sleep, so if we’re going to share a bed, I say you take it off.”

Din places his hand against his hip, a baffled look on his face that earns an equally confused frown from Boba. “What makes you think I’m going to share a bed with you after _that_?” he asks. The other hunter shrugs and shuts the armory doors. He walks back to the bottom bunk and sits down as he removes his belt to hang it up on the wall.

“We’ve done it once before. Either that or you can choose the floor?” Boba says casually and turns to lay down on the bed, stretching with an exaggerated sigh. He’s trying to make the bunk look as comfortable as possible so Din will cave. But Din points up at the upper bunk.

“What’s wrong with that one?” he asks and folds his arms across his chestplate. “Did you forget that there are two bunks in this room?”

“Oh so you’ll make Fennec sleep on the floor?” scoffs the other hunter. He tugs on one of his curls to straighten it, then lets go to allow it to spring back into place. “She’s been around here for longer, you know.” Boba says. “I know you don’t actually want to sleep alone, _Mando_.” he adds, side eyeing Din “You were the one to suggest it last time.”

Din does realize that Boba has a good point. He cards his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck, considering. Something about meeting Grogu and losing him so soon after might have turned him soft. 

Before, Din would have never imagined relying on the company of another living being to be comfortable, or even content. But here he is, seriously considering choosing to bunk with another person instead of taking an open bunk or the floor. The old Din would have gladly laid on the floor instead.

“What’s your point?” Din asks and watches as Boba sits upright and turns his body to face Din. 

“We’re the same,” he says. The words chill Din down to his core, but he does his best not to show it. “When I was younger, I would have killed to have someone like you around. Someone with similar life experiences, someone just like me.” he continues. “We want to be near each other.”

Din would never admit it out loud, but Boba is right. Terrifyingly right. Din likes being around the other hunter because he doesn’t feel so alone. Both literally and in the deeper emotional sense. With such similar experiences and pasts, Din doesn’t feel like such an outcast or alone in his experiences and his traumas. He takes refuge in the knowledge that Boba understands him. And Din at least hopes that the sentiment is shared. That Boba takes as much comfort in Din’s presence as Din takes in his.

Boba pulls him closer and slowly lets go, dropping his hands in his own lap. “We’ve seen the same things, almost. No one else in the galaxy can relate.”

Din takes a breath and bites his bottom lip. He feels as though he could say anything to Boba at that moment. “I’ve been alone for as long as I can remember,” he whispers and slowly moves to crouch in front of Boba. Gravity feels heavier, or maybe he just feels more tired. “But then I met-- I met that little baby and I realized how much I hated being alone.” Din sighs, and the silence weighs heavy for a moment, Boba remaining still. Din sighs, about to stand and bottle his thoughts back up, when Boba combs a gloved hand through his hair, and Din shatters.

He sucks in a hard breath and drops his forehead against Boba’s knees, shoulders so tight, they ache when an unbidden sob suddenly escapes him. He hardly notices Boba shifting above him, but the other hunter leans over him to rest his forehead to the crown of Din’s head, both hands cupping Din’s head as the hunter lets himself break.

All of the grief and sadness Din had bottled up just spills out of him in the form of tears and choked breaths, shaking shoulders and tight fists. He misses the little baby that slept in a hammock above his head. He misses the ship he called home for so many years. He even misses the childhood he lost when the Empire invaded his home and stole his parents away. And Din knows Boba can relate to that when he lost his own father. Years of holding these things in and keeping quiet in his own solitude reverse themselves. Maybe later Din will feel mortified, but Boba’s touch and support makes him feel worlds better. 

Din hiccups as his sobs fade and his grief doesn’t hurt quite as bad. He comes to himself and he realizes, as Boba’s thumbs brush tears from his cheeks, that the other hunter has removed his gloves. And he’s muttering _Mando’a_ into Din’s hair.

He lifts his head and their eyes meet and, thankfully, there’s nothing but understanding in Boba’s eyes. The other Mandalorian lets go of Din’s face and beckons for Din to come closer as he scoots back on the mattress to give him space. Din follows like a loth-cat drawn to a sunspot. 

Boba’s hand lands on Din’s chestplate, pushing him slightly. “Take this off first. I don’t need you digging that beskar into me.” Boba says, but his raspy voice is quiet in the fragile space between them. 

Din sits back on his heels with a sigh and rolls his eyes before ultimately reaching to his neck to remove his cape, dropping it in a soft pile on the floor. He then reaches behind his back to remove his back plate, followed by the flak vest. His greaves follow, and each piece of armor hits the floor with a ringing clang. Din feels partially naked, despite still being fully covered.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Boba says and offers an encouraging smile. “Lay down. You’ll feel better soon.” He props his head against a pillow and pats the pillow for Din to place his head. It’s close, but they’ve been this close before.

Boba reaches to rub his palm against Din’s tear streaked face and the other hunter sniffs. “You don’t think I’m weak?” Din asks carefully, self consciousness setting in and making him restless. He’s one criticism away from getting up and never returning.

Boba shakes his head in response and pushes Din’s hair away from his face. “There’s a strength in being vulnerable. It’s hard to learn, believe me… I still struggle.” he sighs and meets Din’s eyes just inches away.

Din bites the inside of his cheek, unsure how he can return the favor for Boba. He does feel better after his breakdown. Like a dam has been opened and the pressure has been released. “You can be vulnerable, Boba.” Din whispers and, to his surprise, Boba smiles and lets out a short laugh. He frowns and stammers, unaware of what’s so amusing. “What did I say?” Din asks.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said my first name like that.” Boba chuckles and pats his hand over Din’s cheek.

Din frowns and shakes his head. “I was telling you to be vulnerable, you ass,” he grunts. “You missed the point.” Din sighs. His words only make Boba smile more, which proves to be even more frustrating. 

They had a serious moment and it’s drifting away. “Let me be sad for one kriffing minute, maker’s sake.” Din jabs Boba in the ribs, but the other hunter retaliates and pokes Din firmly in the stomach. “Watch it.” he warns, definitely not liking the feeling of being prodded where he’s usually protected by armor. 

Thankfully, Boba relents. He holds his hands up in a peaceful gesture, then places them on Din’s cheeks again, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Din’s temples. Din doesn’t pull away, because it at least feels like Boba is being serious again. Boba frowns in deep consideration before he finally speaks. “I will be, don’t worry. But... your wounds are fresh.” he says, swiping the pad of his thumb underneath Din’s eye to dry any wetness on his lower lid. 

Din can tell that it’s hard for Boba to articulate exactly what he means. Action is simpler and Din can understand a lot through Boba’s touch and gestures. He means well and he wants to offer more than he can put into words. It’s working, so Din doesn’t need Boba to talk him through it.

Silence settles between them and Boba pulls his hands back to get comfortable, letting out a yawn. Din’s head is still swirling with thoughts as Boba slowly rolls over to lay on his other side. The lights in the room dim and Din can hear the way Boba sighs. It’s hard for him to get comfortable too, when he’s thinking too loudly. 

“Do you… think I’ll see him again?” Din asks in a whisper and a beat of silence passes before Boba rolls back over to face him.

The hunter shrugs one shoulder and tucks his hand under the pillow. “There’s no true way to know unless you actively search for him. But… there’s a chance. Just because he’s completing his training- or whatever- doesn’t mean he’s gone forever,” Boba says.“Do you have a way to reach out to Skywalker?” Din shakes his head no and Boba frowns, biting his lip. “I’m sure your boy has a way to reach out to you. I don’t doubt he will when he gets the chance. Now, you may not see him tomorrow, but you will see him soon.”

Din lets out a contemplative hum and folds his hands into his chest. He hopes that’s the case. He wants to see Grogu again more than anything now, but he can be patient and wait for the right time to come. Boba’s words draw him out of his thoughts “Now, are you going to sleep or do you want me to stay awake with you?” he asks.

Din clears his throat and shakes his head again. “I’ll sleep,” Din whispers and Boba nods, then leans his head in to touch his forehead to Din’s. It helps Din’s eyes close and his breathing slows and matches Boba’s calm rhythm. Just a few days ago, he would have never anticipated he would form a bond like this with someone who understands him so well.

Because Slave I has no windows other than on deck and in the cockpit, it’s difficult for Din to know what time it is when he wakes. Boba has rolled over in his sleep, now with his back against Din’s chest and Din’s face ended up pressed to the nape of Boba’s neck during the night again. It’s very familiar to the way he woke last time, but this time their bodies are closer. Din is practically spooning the other hunter, but he’s too comfortable to care or bother moving. 

The ship around them remains just as quiet as the night before, so Din begins to wonder if Fennec is still with them. Din pats Boba’s side gently, earning a rough, tired groan from the other Mandalorian. “Boba,” Din whispers. 

The response from the other hunter comes after a moment of pause, to the point where Din isn’t sure he’s even heard. He opens his mouth to call to him again, but Boba beats him to it, “What?” Boba mumbles.

“Did Fennec not come in?” Din then asks curiously, keeping his voice down because he can tell Boba is still very tired. Or grumpy about being woken.

Boba shakes his head and reaches back towards Din to pat his face and his hair blindly and Din pulls his head back from the gentle assault. “She stayed in town. _Ne'johaa_.” Boba grunts and pulls his arm back to tuck it against his chest. 

He’s considering leaving Boba alone, but Din can’t help himself. Maybe because it’s fun to annoy Boba after all the things Boba does to annoy him. “Did you not sleep well?” he asks softly, having to cup his hand over the smile that forms when Boba groans in low annoyance.

“This is your last chance to shut the hell up. I slept _great_ and I’d like to keep that streak going,” Boba grumbles in response. To drive his point further, he reaches back to smack Din’s face harder than before.

Unfortunately for Din, he’s having too much fun teasing Boba to anticipate the attack and he doesn’t get the chance to dodge the slap. Being hit only makes him laugh, even with his attempts to be quiet like Boba requested. 

This makes Boba Fett’s patience break and he flips over to face Din, shoving him back and rolling on top of him. 

Din wheezes with the weight of Boba sitting on his stomach and they grapple arms for a few moments. Din is at a severe disadvantage, being underneath Boba with how hard he’s laughing and how angry Boba is. 

“You are. So. Annoying,” Boba grunts, trying to hit Din’s face while the other hunter does his best to block and slap his hands away. Boba does eventually find an opening and jabs his fingers under Din’s jaw, causing him to choke and cough. 

The moment Boba lands the half hearted attack, Din shoves his chest hard to push him off. “Okay, enough,” he huffs, still smiling as he sits up, making Boba shuffle off of his stomach and into his lap. 

The other hunter scowls and shoves Din’s chest back. “You started it,” he argues and Din shakes his head with a roll of his eyes. 

“You hit me first.”

“You wouldn’t shut your kriffing mouth!”

There’s that familiar tension in the air again and Din isn’t sure if Boba is really angry at him or not. To him, this is just some play, but maybe Boba is more upset than he expected. They study each other’s faces and, to Din, Boba’s flickering eyes look like he doesn’t know where to look. Din wets his lips, then Boba lifts himself up to climb off of Din’s lap. 

“I _would_ like to get some sleep before our days become very busy, you know.” Boba says with a shocking calmness to his sleep roughed voice. Din understands the request and scoots off the bunk as Boba lays back in his previous space. 

Din isn’t familiar with Boba’s sleeping habits, so he can’t expect the other bounty hunter to have the same schedule as him. It’s Din who sleeps far less than he probably should. “I’m not tired, so I’m going into town for a short while,” he says and digs into his belt pouch to pull out a communicator and set it on the mattress near Boba. “Call me if you need me, but I won’t be gone for long,” he says. Boba pats Din’s thigh in a lazy response, quiet and trying to drift back to sleep. It’s a wordless confirmation that they’re on good terms once again. 

Din picks up his armor and carefully replaces each piece on his suit until he’s fully dressed. He wraps the cape back around his neck, clipping it into place on his collar. Finally, Din picks up his helmet and sets it over his head, letting out a breath through the modulator. Sometimes it feels as if he can breathe easier through it. 

On the bed, Boba rolls over to face the wall with his forearm over his eyes. Din gently cards a gloved hand through the other hunter’s hair before he’s out the door again. 

The morning sun is just rising when the hatch opens. Nevarro is one big planet covered in active volcanoes, so there’s smoke hanging in the air like an early morning fog on Sorgan, and all of the earth is covered in black, lumpy lava rock. Slave I is parked a few meters from the entrance of the town, so it’s quiet for now. Din remembers what it was like to live in the covert, and depending on the time of day, the town can be very quiet until shops open and people begin to wake. For now, Din savors the quiet before it’s bound to break. It’s definitely a lot more peaceful than the beginning of his morning so far.

Din descends the ramp and his boots sink into the ashy, black gravel. Just as he expected, the town is quiet and sleepy. Businesses are just opening and Din sees a group of kids walking in a chatty line together, all hanging onto a single rope to ensure they stay together. He can imagine they’re all on their way to school for the day. He briefly wonders what it would be like if Grogu attended the school too. He might not be tall enough to reach the rope. 

He goes to the most familiar place he can think of-- the guild cantina. If he doesn’t go to see Karga at least once, he knows he’ll never hear the end of it.

“ _You were in town and didn’t even bother to see me? Think of how long we’ve been friends!”_

Something along those lines. 

Bounty hunters don’t live by the normal schedules of the worlds, so the cantina is packed with patrons of all walks of the galaxy. Some familiar faces, some not so much. But there is one familiar person who nearly takes up the whole room with his presence. 

“Mando!” Greef Karga shouts, and when Din’s eyes land on him, he sees a wide smile on the greying man’s face. He’s seated like a king upon his throne in his usual booth and he’s beckoning eagerly for Din to join him.

Din crosses the room and ignores the stares he receives from the other bounty hunters in the bar. When he reaches Karga’s table, he slides into the opposite seat and folds his hands on the table. “Cara Dune told me you were in town. _And_ I saw that you captured that Moff Gideon who was after your baby.” he chuckles “That bounty was big enough to keep you at the top of my list,” he says, acting boastful, as if Din’s success is his own. 

“Keep me? I doubt my position would be at stake,” Din says, unimpressed. 

Karga’s mood shifts and he sits up to lean against the table between them. “I also heard about your little friend.” he says solemnly. “Cara told me he went away for some training, is that right?”

Din shrugs, a sour taste in his mouth now that he’s expected to talk about it. He’s sick of all the pitiful looks he receives when anyone hears about Grogu leaving, though their affection for Grogu had really come in handy in the past. It earned Din some people he can rely on like Cara and even Peli from Mos Eisley. Fennec and Boba Fett too. It’s impossible _not_ to love the baby, so there are plenty of people who seem hurt by the news of his absence. 

Not nearly as much as Din, but this isn’t a contest. 

“Yes… he left to train with the Jedi,” Din says and drops his hands into his lap to hide how tight his fists are clenched. “I don’t know when I’ll see him next.. but he’s in good hands,” he says and forces a shrug. Forces himself to appear nonchalant. As if he isn’t still deeply grieving the loss. 

“Well I’m sure he’ll turn up with those magic powers of his!” Karga says and slaps his hand against the table. Din’s eye twitches behind his visor and nods stiffly. “So are you here to take another bounty? You have your pick of the bunch, my friend.” Karga says, but Din shakes his head. 

“Not today. I have other plans with an acquaintance.” he replies and ignores the way Karga’s eyebrows climb up to his hairline. Is it really that surprising that Din’s chosen to travel with someone? 

“Is that so? You’re not taking bounties from someone else, now are you?” the older man teases, to which Din shakes his head again. 

Or at least he doesn’t think he is. 

“Well, I’ll hope to see you once your travels are over. You’ll be earning higher guild rates after those impressive bounties you’ve been taking in.” Karga sighs and picks up his glowing blue glass of spotchka, then knocks it back.

“I will keep that in mind,” Din says. He plans to go along with whatever Boba has planned, but he does know that he’ll want to return to taking quarries from Greef Karga soon. The money from Gideon’s bounty won’t last forever, even if Din doesn’t need to pay for fuel right now. Thankfully. His promise must be enough for Karga because the older man smiles and pours himself another glass.

“Will you ever be willing to share a drink with me, Mando?” he asks and passes an empty glass in Din’s direction. Din may not be as strict with his creed now that he’s shown his face, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to remove the helmet in a room full of strangers.

Din scoots off the booth and taps the table. “Maybe someday,” he says before he’s on his way back out of the cantina. He’s beginning to wonder where Fennec has been this whole time. He’s sure Boba knows, but Din isn’t about to go back to Slave I and risk waking Boba again. As fun as it is for them to get on each other’s nerves, Din doesn’t want to risk permanently upsetting the bounty hunter.

Once outside, Din feels that he’s accomplished everything he needed to do on Nevarro. Maybe it won’t be so bad to return to the ship, but quietly this time. He knows Cara probably won’t care if he doesn’t say goodbye. She’s plenty busy now that she’s marshall, anyway. On his way back down the main street of the town, Din spots Fennec at the market buying a sack of bright red fruits. She turns to look at him and smiles, holding out the sack for Din to take in his arms to carry for her.

“Morning, Mandalorian.” she greets as Din tucks the bag in his elbow. “Do you want some caf? I’m bringing a cup back for Boba,” she adds as she starts to walk and Din follows her lead.

He’s too curious to beat around the bush and jumps right to the point. “Why weren’t you on the ship last night?” he asks. Fennec laughs and side-eyes Din. They stop at a stall where a merchant is making fresh hot drinks with Nevarro coals and selling colorful, flakey pastries from a display case.

Fennec asks for three caf drinks and some kind of buttery breakfast roll for herself, taking her time getting to Din’s question. “I don’t see how that matters,” she says with a shrug, thanking the merchant as they hand her the roll wrapped up in paper. “I like the things cities have to offer. Cantinas, good company.” She shoves a torn off piece of the bread in her mouth. “I’m indebted to Boba, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend every moment of every day with him. Unlike you,” she says, quirking one eyebrow as Din frowns under his helmet. Is Fennec aware of Din feeling closer to Boba?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Din asks cautiously and Fennec chuckles and passes Din a steaming mug, trading him another one for the sack of fruit. Now with one mug in each hand, Din follows Fennec through the city as she sips her drink.

“I just know that Boba likes you,” she says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Din knows his relationship with Boba is far from simple, but he isn’t about to say that now. “You’re very alike. Both Mandalorians, both bounty hunters. You’re both solitary too,” she says and blows across the steaming surface of her caf before taking another bite of her breakfast.

Din keeps his mouth shut until they’re leaving the edge of the town. “Boba Fett is the only connection I have left to my creed,” he says, causing Fennec to turn and face him, a thoughtful look on her face. She nods her understanding and offers him a small smile. There’s something warm in her eyes as she speaks finally.

“I would be dead without Boba Fett, so I understand why you’d be drawn to him.” She turns on her heel to continue toward the resting ship. “If you keep walking so slow, that caf is going to get cold and he’ll be even grumpier.”

Din quickens his pace to keep up with Fennec until they reach the ship.

Slave I is surprisingly quiet when Din and Fennec arrive. She leaves his side to head for the main deck and the only thing Din can think to do is go to the crew quarters where he last saw Boba. 

Din needs to use his elbow to open the hatch, and when the doors slide open, he’s both surprised and not surprised at all to see Boba spread out on his stomach on the bunk where he left the hunter. After that morning, Din supposes he should approach waking Boba in a more gentle manner. He sets down his cup and carefully rests his free hand over Boba’s shoulder blade, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Boba,” Din whispers, then realizes his voice comes out too loud through the helmet’s modulator. He uses one hand to lift the helmet off and drops it on the mattress beside the other hunter. “I brought you some caf,” he says just as Boba begins to stir. Brown eyes blink up at him tiredly and Din hears a groan come from the other man.

“What a nice way to wake up.” Boba whispers, his voice scratching and he extends a hand out for the steaming drink in Din’s hand as he slowly sits up. “Some fresh caf and my comfy bed partner in my face,” he says. Din regrets taking the helmet off because he makes a displeased face and Boba smiles as soon as he catches sight of it. “Now don’t look so worked up, your face will get stuck like that,” he teases. Din rolls his eyes, turns, and grabs his own cup to take a sip of the hot drink. It’s bitter in taste, but it’ll at least keep him awake throughout the trip all the way back to Tatooine.

Din takes a seat on the floor while Boba remains on the bed, sipping his drink slowly and quietly. It’s amusing to watch such a man take so long to wake up. It must be rare when Boba gets to sleep in, so he’s clearly savoring the opportunity. “What’d you do in town?” Boba yawns, finally breaking the silence and lowering his drink into his lap.

Din glances down at the black liquid in his cup and shrugs. “I went to see a, I guess you could call him, a business partner in town. He’s the head of the guild for the surrounding parsecs. If he found out I was here and didn’t visit him, I’d never hear the end of it,” he explains and sips his drink.

“He sounds annoying,” Boba says gruffly. Din can’t help the short laugh that escapes him. He isn’t far from the truth, despite having never met Greef Karga in person. Maybe it’s a good thing they’ve never met. Karga would be all over Boba and his reputation in seconds and would never let him leave.

“You could say that,” Din says, reaching to set his mug down on the floor beside him. “Do you plan to leave for Tatooine today?” he asks and Boba nods and downs the last of his drink, then sets it on the floor beneath the bunk.

“You mean do _we_ plan to leave today. You’re part of this now, unless you would like to opt out…” Boba says and stands, taking his time to stretch. 

Din shakes his head and leans his back against the wall. He has no other plans, so his best option now is to just stay and enjoy the ride. He wants to know what Boba has in store for them, and Din doesn’t really hate Tatooine that much. Sure, it’s hot and dry and sandy, but the locals are decent- both the Tuskens and the immigrants alike. If he sees Peli again, he knows he’s going to break her heart when she won’t get to hold and cuddle Grogu. “I’ve spent a lot of time on Tatooine.” Din says.

“I know,” responds Boba and, for a moment, Din feels baffled. How would Boba ever know that? He waits for the hunter to elaborate, which he does without being asked. “I saw the way you interacted with the Sand People. That kind of understanding of their language and culture doesn’t come easy.” 

Now Din feels himself frown and Boba notices he’s being stared at. “Don’t gawk.” Boba says. “I told you I had been tracking you. Ever since you took my armor back.”

“Well I didn’t expect you to follow me around that much.” Din shakes his head, trying to recall the last time he was on Tatooine. He went there for the sole purpose of finding another Mandalorian, and a True Mandalorian had been following his footsteps that entire time. “How did I not notice?” Din mutters and rubs his jaw. “Did you also know that I was looking for you?” he asks and, to that, Boba shakes his head.

“How was I supposed to know that? And why would you be looking for _me_?” Boba asks. Now he’s feeling like the one who was being stalked in the first place. 

Din shakes his head. “That’s beside the point. I was searching for a Mandalorian because I knew they could help me in my quest to return Grogu to his home.” He pauses, realizing that Boba had done just that, in the end. “And I suppose you did help me, after all.”

“What a roundabout way of solving that problem. Anyway,” Boba sighs and crosses the room to open his armory where he hung up his own beskar the night before. “I’m going to Tatooine to take over the most esteemed crime syndicate in the galaxy,” he says casually as he dons each individual piece of armor. Din stops paying attention as the gears in his mind turn over what Boba just said.

The most esteemed crime syndicate in the galaxy, located on Tatooine. 

There’s no possible way Boba plans what Din is thinking. Everyone knows of the gangster Jabba the Hutt. Even those who haven’t lived on Tatooine know about him and his reputation. He had died during the fight between the Empire and the Republic, but his business still stands. The last Din ever heard of it, the Hutt had been succeeded by his majordomo. “There’s no way you plan to take over Hutt Palace,” Din says.

The pointed, serious look he receives from Boba begins to convince him otherwise. Din snaps his mouth shut, feeling the weight of his words settle in the room. Boba must, in fact, have a very real plan to take the syndicate. And Din has no doubt in his mind that he’ll succeed.

“Need I remind you,” hisses Boba, brown eyes like fire so suddenly, “that Jabba the Hutt, my employer at the time, is the reason why I was swallowed by that sarlacc?” Boba snaps, clearly triggered by something. Whether it’s by whatever Din said or the mere memory of the incident, he isn’t sure.

Din shakes his head and moves to stand, taking a few steps closer to Boba. “You don’t need to remind me, Boba.” Once he’s actually standing closer to the hunter, he can see the weight that’s settled over the other man’s shoulders. The memory pains him and he’s so filled with anger still. “You and I both know what happened,” he whispers and a slight thrill flutters in his stomach when he realizes what this means. It’s _his_ turn to calm Boba down and offer him a shoulder to lean on. Now he can return the favor. 

With a gentle touch, Din takes Boba’s hands in his, and he can feel the way they shake slightly. Boba squeezes his fingers around Din’s hands to stop the shaking and anchor himself. “I am still here and I’m going with you to Tatooine,” Din promises, and Boba lifts head in surprise to look up at him, as if he can’t believe that Din _hasn’t_ run off yet. “I know you’d run that place better than any Hutt, anyway,” he adds and lowers his head closer to Boba. The other hunter chuckles and rests his forehead against Din’s, squeezing his hands again. He lets out a breath, now calmer than he was moments ago. 

Trauma has a way of changing a person, even if said trauma happened so far in the past. It can still reappear and hurt a person just as deeply now as it did then. Din knows that the memory of Boba’s near death experience haunts him still and sometimes it’s hard to make peace with it. Din felt the same way about the day his parents died at the hands of battle droids. Angry, scared, bloodthirsty. 

It’s just another thing that brings him and Boba ever closer.

Boba slowly lets go of Din’s hands, leaving the other confused briefly. He lifts his arms to wrap up and around Din’s neck and shoulders. It occurs to Din that he’s being hugged and his heart skips a beat in his chest as Boba settles his head against Din’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to leave the other hunter hanging, so Din lifts his arms to carefully wrap around Boba’s torso. Somehow, it’s a lot less uncomfortable than Din could have imagined.

They stay like this for a few long moments, breathing each other in and savoring the feeling of having another body pressed to one’s own. It’s almost strange to think that they only met less than a week ago.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:
> 
> Ne'johaa - Shut up


	3. Traveling Tatooine for Dummies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back loves! Happy Friday and I hope you're all doing well.
> 
> There's Mando'a dialogue in this chapter, so look to the notes at the end for translations.  
> Enjoy! <3

Tatooine is a desert planet located in the outer rim and it’s just as bland as it sounds. The arid and dry climate makes it hard for most life to thrive with settlements that rely on drawing moisture from the atmosphere just to drink and bathe. Almost everything about Tatooine is dangerous, from the sinkholes hiding in the dunes, to the native Tusken Raiders roaming the sands. 

Din isn’t a huge fan of Tatooine but, then again, not many people are. Rarely does someone decide to go on a relaxing getaway to Tatooine of all places. They’re here for business and Din can at least tolerate that.

During the four hour flight through hyperspace, Boba sits on the deck in front of the terminal, meticulously studying and planning his siege on Hutt Palace. Previously, he planned to storm the settlement with only Fennec at his side, so he’s glad to have Din tagging along. Or at least Din thinks he is. For the past three hours, he hasn’t heard a single word out of Boba, even if the bounty hunter is sitting less than five feet away from him. He’s clearly absorbed in his own head and, in Din’s opinion, overthinking his entire approach. 

Or maybe Din just doesn’t plan very thoroughly.

Boba groans as he scrolls through an old map of Tatooine, helping Din decide that he’s had enough. He stands and rests his hand on the back of Boba’s neck, squeezing gently. “How about you take a break?” he offers, watching how Boba restlessly flexes his hands against the terminal controls.

“This is a very serious plan, Din.” Boba sighs and Din gently combs his fingers through the other’s curls, trying to at least distract him away from the terminal. 

He leans in closer, his cheek close to Boba’s ear as he whispers, “just a short break,” through the modulator. Somehow, it works. Boba turns his head to study Din, considering whether or not he should give in as brown eyes flicker across the face of Din’s helm. He turns in his chair, eventually getting up. When he stretches, Din can hear something in his back or shoulder pop, and winces in sympathy. He knows from personal experience what hours of sitting still at the helm does to a body.

“Alright,” Boba sighs. “A short break.” He takes Din by the hand to lead him off the deck and down to the storage compartments in the hall. Din figures it won’t hurt to have some lunch before they arrive. Boba opens the pantry cabinet and hums thoughtfully as he studies his options. Din grabs one of the jars of soup he bought as Boba picks a different variety.

In the crew quarters there’s a small kitchenette in an alcove in the wall with a stove, a compartment holding cooking utensils, a small conservator, and not much else. Slave I clearly wasn’t built as a ship to primarily live on. Din supposes he can’t talk. The Razor Crest was a gunship in the days of its production, so it didn’t even have a kitchenette option. Which left him needing to either cook everything at a campsite or buy prepared food for his jobs. This stove, while small, is a welcome luxury.

Boba passes Din a pot to dump his soup in and they both sit on the floor beside the kitchenette while they wait for their food to heat up, side by side on the tiny two-burner stove. Sitting close to one another, Boba rests his head against Din’s shoulder plate while he stares at the blue flames licking at the underside of the pots. 

Boba is still quiet, chewing on his bottom lip and Din can see the way his eyes glaze over in thought. There’s nothing Din can do to stop him if he chooses to overthink, but Din does his best to be a distraction. 

He awkwardly tries to hold Boba’s hand, then realizes how unfamiliar he is with extending any kind of physical affection. Bravely pressing forward anyway, Din takes Boba’s hand in his and squeezes experimentally. Boba is drawn back out of his daze of thought and stares back at Din quizzically. 

Din opens his mouth to speak, but Boba beats him to it, shifting to face Din straight on. “Do you know how long I’ve been planning this?” he asks and, without context, Din would have no idea what he’s referring to. Claiming Hutt Palace, of course.

Din shrugs, focus shifted so that he’s no longer hyper aware that they’re still holding hands. “Three hours, about,” he guesses.

“Try five years,” Boba responds. His eyes are intense, helping Din realize just how obsessed he’s been with this idea. It is a very impressive way to remind the galaxy that you’re not dead anymore.

An annoying voice in the back of Din’s head takes control over his mouth as he speaks. “What took you so long?” he asks before he has the chance to stop the words. Just as he could have expected, Boba’s eye twitches and he lets go of Din’s hand to shove him in the chest firmly. Din actually loses his balance and catches himself from falling back just as Boba stands, clearly angry.

“Your soup is still cooking,” Din calls dumbly to Boba’s back as the other Mandalorian stomps to the door. It isn’t the right thing to say and Din knows this, but he has no idea how to fix the problem he’s accidentally created.

As the hatch doors slide open, Boba throws a furious glare over his shoulder. “Pour it in your lap, then,” he snaps, then steps out.

Once he’s gone, Din flops down on the floor on his back in defeat, one arm thrown over the visor of his helmet. He groans loudly and the soup on the stove noisily boils.

Why he said something so callous and out of hand, Din doesn’t quite know. He’s aware that this is a delicate topic-- especially with how meticulously planned Boba’s act of revenge is. He’s getting back at the people who left him for dead and Din had to ask him  _ why he hadn’t done it sooner _ ?

Maybe because Boba was recovering from his injuries.  _ Maybe _ because he didn’t have the resources to storm the galaxy’s top crime syndicate at the time. No weapons, no aid, just time. Plenty of time to sit and think and stew over each and every step to a very dangerous, very fallible plan. If something did go wrong, it could spell death and disaster for all of them.

So, of course Boba took offense to Din grossly simplifying the product of five years of careful strategizing. It would have hurt Din in the same way if Boba had underestimated the severity of Din’s mission to rescue Grogu from the Empire.

Din reaches to shut off the burners. Now it’s time for him to fix what he screwed up. His appetite is gone, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Boba’s is too. Din forces himself to sit up and finally stand to pour each of the soups back into their respective jars. He tucks them away in the small conservator beneath the stove.

When Din returns to the deck, Fennec is taking apart her rifle on the floor and Boba is brooding in front of the terminal again. She lifts her head to make eye contact with Din and he has a feeling she knows what happened. It is hard to not notice Boba Fett storming around the ship. She knows him well enough to know that something is wrong. She also knows him well enough to know that it’s not her business to get in the middle of it. 

If dark clouds could physically materialize in the room over Boba’s head, they would have a full storm on their hands by now. The air feels heavy in a way that makes Din feel as if he is suffocating with the pressure.

“Are you lost, little one?” Boba grumbles, not even turning around to look at Din. It’s a ridiculously false pet name, but Din knows Boba is addressing him, not Fennec. He’s just trying to piss Din off.

Din, feeling called out, pauses and glances at Fennec, who only offers a shrug and a shake of her head in response. “No?” Din mutters. Boba finally spins around and he looks just as angry as before, brown eyes almost black with fury and maybe even a little hatred. He jabs an accusatory finger in Din’s direction and a haunted shiver rolls down Din’s spine.    
“Oh? I don’t remember  _ inviting _ you up here.” Boba snaps just as Fennec begins to gather up the pieces of her rifle. 

“That’s my cue,” she whispers as she scoots along the floor and descends the ladder.

Din and Boba are alone again, but Boba turns around to continue ignoring Din. Din doesn’t think he’s ever met someone more emotionally constipated and easy to frustrate than him. He’s not willing to let this go on, though. Din knows he made a mistake and he wants to apologize correctly. 

If they’re going to fight their way through the Hutt’s Palace, Din doesn’t want to be at odds with Boba. He wouldn’t be surprised if the hunter threw him in the line of fire as a meat shield just because he’s angry at him. “Okay, look,” he says as he approaches Boba, annoyed when the other hunter refuses to acknowledge him still. “I realize I said something out of hand and-- I apologize.” Din crouches in front of Boba and swivels his chair around so the hunter can face him.

It’s no surprise when he sees Boba scowling at him with his arms folded in front of his chest. Din can’t blame him at all. “I do understand how meaningful this is to you… sometimes I say the wrong things.” Boba rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, almost as if he plans to get further away from Din.

“No kidding,” Boba huffs and knocks his knuckles against the side of Din’s helmet. “I don’t like when you wear that when it’s just the two of us.”

Din isn’t sure if this is going to become Boba listing the things he doesn’t like about Din. He deserves some kind of consequence for insulting Boba, but maybe he doesn’t deserve to be criticized for everything. “I don’t like when you get so angry,” Din replies and rests his head against Boba’s lap.

Boba lets out a sigh and drops his head back against the back of his chair, his hand landing on Din’s helmet. He groans like it physically pains him to accept the apology. Din has a feeling Boba doesn’t want to stay angry with him. And for that, Din has found the perfect way to resolve any problem. 

“Shut up,” Boba says, but there’s less hatred in his tone than earlier. He reaches to curl his fingers under the jawline of Din’s helmet and pulls it off. Din’s hair is flattened from the helmet and Boba ruffles his fingers through it as if to try to help fix it.

“So you accept my apology?” Din asks carefully, hissing with pain when Boba tugs on a fistful of his hair. “Kriff, watch it,” he grunts and swats Boba’s hand away.

Boba drops Din’s helmet to the floor and stares at the ceiling before nodding slowly. It’s as if he needs to contemplate his answer first. “I suppose I do... It’s hard to say no to your sad face,” he teases as Din rolls his eyes and lifts his head off of Boba’s lap. He stands and rolls his shoulders, glancing out the transparisteel at the hyperspace glow whizzing by. At least they’re okay with each other now. Din can at least work with that, ignoring the insult about his face.

“I’m here to help you with your mission. You helped me when I needed it,” Din says, and he sees Boba smile briefly before the other hunter turns his chair to hide it. It doesn’t deter him, and Din rests his hands on Boba’s shoulders, leaning in to put his cheek against the crown of Boba’s head. From here, he can see the terminal and Boba’s plan written out in  _ Mando’a _ . It’s very specific with a map of Hutt Palace, and an estimation of the kind of guards and hostiles they may encounter. It appears very thought out, and Din’s impressed.

“I usually just run in and hope for the best,” he mutters appreciatively, and Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“It’s a miracle you’re still alive, Din,” Boba whispers. Din hums, then squeezes Boba’s shoulders before he pulls away to take a seat beside him.

“Really,” Boba clarifies. “I saw the way you had your ass nearly handed to you on Morak.”

Din rests his boot against the edge of Boba’s chair and folds his hands in his lap as he reclines in his chair. “That was only because I didn’t have my beskar,” he deadpans. One look at the chrono on the terminal reminds him that they still have around an hour left until they arrive at Tatooine. “You won’t need to look after me,” Din promises. 

“I can only hope that’s the case,” Boba hums sarcastically as he stares at the terminal, then glances Din’s way for only a second before his eyes are back on the hologram.

At least the silence between them doesn’t feel so charged and awkward as before.

A few minutes pass before Din hears the sound of Fennec climbing the ladder again. Din’s heart jumps into his throat and he drops his feet to the floor to sit up. Before he can say anything, Boba is already passing him his helmet as he types with his other hand. The wordless communication surprises Din, but he gladly takes the helmet and puts it on before Fennec reaches the top of the ladder.

It took her longer than usual because she has a bowl of cut fruit tucked in one arm. She doesn’t address the improved mood in the room, but nods at Din as she takes a seat back on the floor where she was previously dismantling and cleaning her rifle. She takes a noisy bite of the fruit and picks up a rag to wipe old grease from an internal piece of her blaster.

Din puts his feet back up against Boba’s chair and rests his head back to get comfortable and wait out the rest of their hyperspace trip.

When they drop out of hyperspace, Din jolts awake in his chair. He didn’t even realize he fell asleep in the first place, and one glance out of the transparisteel shows that they’ve arrived. Boba is in the cockpit and Fennec is sitting across from Din, braiding her hair carefully. It’s peacefully quiet and Din begins to think that neither of his traveling companions knew he fell asleep. He’s fine with that. It’s one of the many benefits of covering his face at all times. To everyone around him, he always looks aware of his surroundings. 

Din isn’t thrilled about being back on Tatooine, and Fennec never seems impressed by anything, really. He can’t blame her. He used to be the same way before he got soft around a defenseless baby.

Slave I lands and Din savors the cool temperature before the door opens and the dry heat crawls its way in and around them. He isn’t looking forward to the sand in his boots and his gloves either. The worst is when it gets up under his helmet and into his hair.

When they land in Mos Eisley again, there’s a familiarity to the ragtag city that Din finds he actually enjoys.When the ship’s hatch opens, Fennec steps out with a bag and her rifle slung over her shoulder and Din can hear her greeting Peli. He only knows it’s her thanks to her bright, loud voice. He’s dreading the moment she’ll expect to see Grogu and ends up disappointed. 

Boba descends the ladder from the cockpit and turns to face Din. “You were asleep, weren’t you?” he asks, which surprises Din. He didn’t think it was very obvious with the helmet on. As if Boba can hear his thoughts, he continues with a shrug “Your head kind of leans to the side. So I figured you were either sleeping or dead.”

“Good to know…” Din mutters and stands, stretching his back and arms with a groan. His neck does ache. “So where do we go from here?” he asks. 

Boba smirks and puts on his helmet. “You’d know if you read my plan,” he says and pats Din’s chest before he turns to leave the deck. On his way out, Boba picks up a bag he packed for their trip and Din follows, pulling his satchel on over his shoulder. 

Outside, pit droids are scattering around and noisily beeping and chirping to each other. Peli is busy yelling at the group and once she glances Din’s way, she smiles wide and approaches them. Her head is held high and she waves.

“Wow, I feel like you and I saw each other not too long ago,” she says, but then pauses. “Where is the little one?” she asks with a frown just worried enough to make Din’s throat tighten up.

He doesn’t want to tell her the truth, but he has to. He takes in a slow breath and nervously settles his hands on his belt buckle. “Remember when I told you I was searching for his own kind?” he asks and watches Peli’s face carefully as understanding comes to her. She nods and Din shuffles his feet in the dirt awkwardly. “Well, I found them and now he’s staying with them…” he explains lamely. 

He can practically feel Boba staring at him as the other hunter brushes his shoulder against Din’s. It’s a soft feeling of comfort and support that Din needs.

Peli nods and the way she waves her hand at Din makes him think she’s attempting to appear nonchalant. “Oh, well… That’s a good thing, then,” she says and glances at the ground. She’s more upset than she’s trying to let on. “I guess I can’t charge for babysitting now.”

Din chuckles and Peli gestures to Slave I parked in the middle of the hangar. “My pit droids could do some work on this one.” She changes the subject and Din’s thankful he doesn’t need to keep talking about losing Grogu.

“Thank you for that,” Boba says “We will be trekking out to the dunes and we should return a few days from now.” 

That is, if everything goes according to plan. Din can appreciate Boba’s confidence.

“I’ll be here,” Peli promises “You’re welcome to borrow the speeder bikes, even if they are old… just don’t destroy them like last time, Mando.”

Boba turns to stare back at Din and Din nods. He isn’t about to explain what happened to Boba. Being tripped up by bandits is the last thing he wants to admit. He still feels bad about wrecking the speeder bike, but at least Peli is still allowing them to borrow the ones she has left. “Thank you, Peli.” Din says.

They approach the bikes parked in the shade and, again, Din can feel Boba watching him. “I’m not going to tell the story,” Din says bluntly, earning a dejected sigh from Boba.   
“Just tell me how you totaled the bike and maybe I’ll let you drive your own,” Boba jokes, but Din knows he doesn’t mean it.

“Maybe another day you’ll hear it,” Din responds as he straddles one of the bikes and starts it up. The engine sputters to life, but other than a rough start, it runs smoothly. Fennec and Boba join Din on their respective bikes, then they follow Boba out of the hangar and beyond the edge of Mos Eisley. 

Speeder bikes are the most efficient way to travel through the desert over the sand and shifting dunes. Anything else would sink and drown, especially in the deadly sink pits that come up all over the deserts. Din at least likes this part of traveling Tatooine. The wind makes him feel cooler, even with the sun beating down on his helmet. Tatooine’s horizon is that of rolling dunes and the occasional jagged rock formations rising up from the soft sands. Roads between towns don’t exist after the winds blow sand over any trails that can be paved or dug.

Boba knows his way to Hutt Palace, so he takes the lead of their three speeder caravan. Din keeps his eyes out for bandits and Tuskens. He supposes everyone he’s traveling with have a peaceful relationship with the natives. Boba lived on Tatooine for six years and when they met he carried a Tusken gaderffii. He must have spent some time with the nomad tribes, in that case. 

They arrived on Tatooine in the afternoon, and now the suns are already beginning to sink low in the sky. Boba stops the caravan near a flat clearing at the base of a rock formation to shield them from the nighttime winds. Din climbs off of his bike and stretches his legs after the long ride. Fennec, efficient as always, is already setting up a campfire for the three of them. Tatooine is hot during the day but, depending on the time of year, temperatures at night can drop by more than twenty degrees.

Din lays out his sleep roll just a few feet from the fire once Fennec is finished lighting it. She sets up her sleep mat and removes her helmet to set it in the send next to her mat. It feels peaceful with the silence between them and all around them. Din likes being around people just as quiet and reserved as him.

Together, they warm up a pot of soup once the sun sets and the stars glimmer overhead. The night is quiet and Boba doesn’t seem to be in a chatting mood as he stares down at his steaming soup. He only breaks the silence when he looks to Din and notices that he’s lacking a bowl of soup in his own hands.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Boba asks, but Din easily shrugs the question off. He’s lost count of how many times people have suggested he take his helmet off to eat, but Boba doesn’t seem swayed. Maybe because Boba’s used to seeing Din without his helmet by now. Fennec, on the other hand, isn’t. Din isn’t so sure he feels comfortable taking his helmet off in front of her again.

“I can eat later,” Din says dismissively and pointedly ignores the way Boba frowns at him. Fennec sips her soup, sitting cross legged on her mat and she turns her head to watch Boba, watching Din.

“He can’t eat with the helmet on,” she points out obviously, as if she’s unsure if Boba forgot. 

Boba turns his attention to Fennec and makes a gesture in Din’s direction. “He can take it off,” he says, which makes Din’s spine straighten and his shoulders tense. He doesn’t want to be  _ pressured _ to take the helmet off. Especially by Boba. He thought the other bounty hunter understood him well enough.

“I don’t  _ want _ to take it off, Boba,” Din grinds out, earning eye contact from Boba again.

“So you’re just not going to eat?” the other hunter asks and makes a point to sip his soup with a loud slurp that makes Din’s skin crawl. “It’s good soup. Fennec slaved over it,” he says.

Fennec looks like she isn’t sure if she should get involved, but she does roll her eyes and sets her bowl down. “It was soup from a jar, Boba,” she mutters and scoots closer to the fire. “Maybe don’t pressure Din into taking the helmet off again… when we saw him remove it, he didn’t take it off for us. He took it off for the baby.”

Boba shrugs. “I don’t care about seeing his face, I care about him not eating dinner and being weak.”

Din doesn’t see why this is even a conversation they’re having right now. Somehow, Boba has interested himself far too much with what Din decides to do and Fennec sees it necessary to defend him. It doesn’t matter, in Din’s opinion. He’s comfortable showing his face around Boba, but right now, faced with this ridiculousness, he’s decided not to take the helmet off out of pure spite.

“What if we look away?” Boba offers. Din shakes his head stubbornly.

“I’m… not hungry,” he decides.

The silence that follows is deafening and, for a moment, Din thinks the conversation is over. Boba just won’t stop staring at him with a hauntingly blank expression. It isn’t until Din meets his eyes that something happens.

In the blink of an eye, Boba lunges at Din and successfully pins him down to the ground. Din’s helmet knocks back against the rocky ground. He wheezes, barely having a moment to register what just happened. Boba  _ tackled _ him. Din tries to shove the bounty hunter off of him, but Boba grabs Din’s helmet by the face and Din freezes up. “What in the maker’s name are you doing?” he snaps and blindly grabs Boba by his hair, using his other hand to push Boba’s face away from him with a straight arm.

“Stop being so kriffing stubborn,” Boba grunts and shuffles himself to pin Din’s legs down when Din starts to knee him off. Din pulls his hair-- Boba grunts and grabs the jaw of the helmet. The threat is clear as day, so Din releases Boba and grabs the wrist holding the helmet.

“Let go,” Din warns.

“You haven’t eaten in two cycles.” Boba says, ignoring Din’s warning and leaning in closer to weigh Din down into the gravel. “You’re not going to be useful tomorrow if you keep acting so spiteful.”

“Okay, fine,” Din snaps and shoves Boba’s chest hard to get him off of him. As soon as he has the chance to sit up, he rips the helmet off and throws it into the sand. “Happy?” he says. “You wanted to see my face so badly, now you can see how pissed off you make me.”

Boba recovers from the shove and grabs Din by the front of his cape, dragging him closer. “You’re so kriffing annoying.  _ You _ piss  _ me _ off every other hour, I swear,” he hisses dangerously close to Din’s face.

The tension is palpable and, for a moment, Din feels like he can’t breathe. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come to his lips. He’s hardly thinking when he reaches out to grab Boba by the face, gloved fingertips digging into his scarred cheeks when he drags the other bounty hunter closer and smashes their lips together.

Boba nearly freezes in place, but his grip on Din’s cape never lessens and he certainly doesn’t push Din away. 

Instead, once the shock wears off, he tugs Din closer and grasps the back of his neck, fingers digging into his hair. Din doesn’t expect it when Boba actually kisses him back. It’s rough and heated and Din actually feels Boba nip his bottom lip with his teeth. A pleased sound threatens to leave his throat before Din decides he can’t let this continue.

Din is the first to pull away, eyes wide and confused. It was his idea in the first place, but he couldn’t explain why he did it if his life depended on it. Boba flexes his jaw and releases his grip on Din’s cape after a long moment, but their eyes are still locked as Boba gets off of him and scoots away. Din can only hear the fire crackling and the blood rushing in his ears, but he speaks to break the silence. “I… think I’ll have some soup then.”

The moment Din breaks eye contact with Boba, he sees Fennec staring at them both with wide eyes. If he could sink into the sand and hide forever with the womp-rats, he would. Not only did Fennec see his face again, but she also saw Din initiate a very aggressive,  _ very _ confusing kiss with the very bounty hunter who brought her back from the dead.

She does her best to pretend she didn’t witness it when she drops her head down to stare into her soup and sip it. She isn’t fooling anyone and Din will never live down the fact that Fennec saw the whole damn thing. Kriff, his whole body feels overheated and his heart’s racing.

To say his appetite disappeared would be an understatement, but Din pours himself a bowl of soup and takes a seat on his sleep mat. Boba, on the other hand, has a very easy time pretending none of that even happened. As if their fight ended with the grappling of arms, not lips. 

Din doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that Fennec saw, or how easily Boba brushed it off, or how much Din actually _enjoyed_ _it._ He wants to do it again, but he won’t. Obviously.

He tells himself that it was just a rash decision made in the heat of the moment. It was either punch the bounty hunter in the face or-- do that.

Din sips his soup while Fennec stands to put her bowl away in her travel bag. She drinks from her canteen and returns to her mat to lay down. “Goodnight,” she calls to them casually and rolls over to face away from them both.

As soon as Fennec isn’t watching, Boba whips his hand out to swat Din’s arm, nearly making him spill soup all over himself.

“Watch it,” Din hisses and flips an obscene gesture at Boba.

“Do you want to explain yourself?” Boba whispers, but Din shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Please, you’re just at fault as I am. Let me drink my soup, I know how obsessed you were with me eating in the first place,” he mutters.

Boba leans closer to Din, finally earning some eye contact from him. “How long were you planning on doing that?” Boba asks as Din chokes on his soup and sputters as he tries to cough it out of his windpipe.

“It wasn’t  _ planned, _ ” Din snaps. “Do  _ not  _ remind me that happened at all.”

The warning is apparently enough for Boba and the other bounty hunter lifts a hand in surrender as he shuffles to lay down on his mat. He grabs his helmet to put it on as he gets comfortable, or at least as comfortable as one can get sleeping on the ground with only a thin layer of padding between them and the gravel.

The silence of the Tatooine night returns with only the sound of the fire crackling that keeps Din company as he finishes his dinner. It’s usually how he ate his meals when he was strict with the Creed before. Only after everyone was either asleep or gone, he would remove the helmet to eat alone and as fast as physically possible. Now, Din finds a strange comfort in being able to sit and enjoy a meal at a normal pace.

He mourns the loss of the Creed, but he can learn to live without the constant fear of revealing his identity.

To say he slept at all that night would be wildly inaccurate. Din spent the majority of the night restlessly tossing and turning and staring up at the stars. Even after he blacked out his visor, he still struggled. 

When the suns rise, Din is already somehow both wide awake and exhausted. He can’t get the memory out of his head. That stupid, knee jerk decision that already haunts every corner of his brain. He hates how well he can remember what it felt like to kiss Boba Fett. Or how his stomach filled with butterflies when Boba dragged him closer to continue it. He  _ cannot _ stop thinking about it. Din knows better than to entertain the ideas. Before he initiated it, Din had never even considered doing such a thing. 

Sure, they were close and Din wasn’t afraid to touch Boba or get in his space. But never had he even considered crossing that line. 

Boba stirs once the binary suns are up high enough in the sky and Din’s thankful for his helmet to hide the way he’s desperately trying to avoid eye contact with the other bounty hunter. Boba’s very good at pretending nothing even happened. Fennec, not so much. 

She’s rolling up her mat when she glances at both Din and Boba and Din can tell she’s trying her best to avoid the topic. She’s polite enough to read the room and know not to bring it up. 

“We have just a few hours until we arrive at Jabba’s Palace,” Boba says as he finishes packing his things and loads them onto his speeder bike. “We should set up a camp not too far away, but also not close enough for their sentries to know we’re there,” he explains. 

Din is half-listening to Boba’s instructions as he loads his bike and straddles the seat before starting the engine. His plan is to just follow Boba’s lead and help wherever he’s needed. This isn’t his act of revenge, so he’s just here as support. 

Boba’s raspy voice pulls Din out of his thoughts and he lifts his head to meet Boba’s visor turned to him. “Did you get all of that?” Boba repeats impatiently. Din nods and sets one foot into the footrest on the bike. 

“Loud and clear,” Din answers, but the way Boba shakes his head as he turns to face forward on his own bike tells Din enough. He’s not convinced, and there’s a new sense of tension in the air with the refusal to acknowledge what happened between them. Din isn’t going to be the one to ever bring it up and he’ll take that to his grave. 

The silence of their ride is both blissful and horrifying. On one hand, Din doesn’t need to worry about making conversation with anyone else, and on the other, his mind is also very preoccupied with panicked thoughts. He’s mostly trying to understand why he initiated the kiss in the first place, but no logical reasoning comes up. The fight just… made him want it. 

An hour into the ride through the dune sea, Din decides he’s finished thinking about it. It won’t happen again and he can easily put it behind them if they just never talk about it again. He has more important things to think about, like infiltrating a heavily guarded crime syndicate. His beskar spear weighs heavily over his shoulder, which Din is thankful for. The spear comes in handy in close quarter combat and he knows he won’t need to rely on his new pulse rifle with Fennec watching their back. She lives up to her reputation as being the most deadly sniper in the outer rim.

Boba chooses a place to camp less than a mile away from Jabba’s Palace on a high rocky cliff slightly overlooking the Palace. From here, they can study the exterior and assess any safety precautions the Hutts have in place. Snipers, guards, security. Tonight they won’t have the luxury of a campfire now that they’re trying to be stealthy and hidden. 

They work together to lay out the temporary camp and Boba begins to cover the plan in further detail than before. He sits on his sleep mat and pulls up a hologram from his gauntlet. There’s a detailed map of Hutt Palace’s interior with hallways, rooms, and separate levels. Boba explains each security checkpoint and how they plan to get past. Their main goal is to find the throne room where the leader will be. Jabba’s past right hand, Bib Fortuna. 

“He’s mine,” Boba says, a dark edge in his tone. It isn’t Jabba, but it’s as close as he will get. Jabba was already killed at the hands of a prisoner the day Boba fell into the sarlacc pit. “I’ll take out Fortuna and that throne is mine.”

Din understands the plan well enough and his job is to cover Boba and fight off any guards in their way. It isn’t something he hasn’t done before, now that he thinks back to the prison break he assisted and Bo-Katan’s mission to take out the Imperial light cruiser over Trask. He can storm a heavily guarded Palace and take out guards no problem.

“Tomorrow we’ll attack at first light,” Boba decides and clicks off the hologram.

A part of Din is relieved they don’t plan to start their siege until the next day cycle because he’s exhausted after such a horrible night of sleep and a long day of staring out at the flat horizon. Maybe if he just lays down to sleep now, he won’t be expected to talk to Boba or Fennec. 

The sun is still setting when Din decides to lay down and he turns his visor tint up all the way, blocking out any light from coming in as he settles his head down on the mat. Din can still hear everything around him, though. He isn’t dumb enough to block out all senses and leave himself vulnerable. Boba and Fennec make light conversation that Din can’t quite make out from where he is, but he figures it isn’t that important. He actually manages to begin dozing off, but a firm hand shaking his shoulder startles him out of any light sleep he was trying to achieve.

Din scrambles to press the light setting on his gauntlet and he sees Boba’s helmet staring down at him. He sits up and shakes his head. “What was that all about?” he grunts and scoots himself away from Boba to leave at least a foot of space between them.

“You’re acting really strange,” Boba comments as he takes a seat on Din’s mat, which bothers him a little, but he won’t say anything now. He has been avoiding Boba, that much is obvious. Din just doesn’t want to risk talking about it. He doesn’t want to imagine that Boba might think of him any differently.

“I don’t think I am. I’m tired,” Din lies with a shrug, but his words die in his mouth when Boba scoots closer to him. One glance out of the corner of his eye and Din can see that Fennec is gone now. It’s only him and Boba again.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I sit here, would you?” Boba asks. Now the other hunter is kneeling too close to Din for him to be comfortable. Din is sitting cross legged and Boba is close enough for him to reach out less than an arm’s length and touch him. Maybe before, Din wouldn’t have even thought Boba was too close. But now… now he’s too close, when Din can hear his breathing and see the small scratches in his beskar’s paint. He’s too close when either one of them could easily reach out and grab the other.

If Din wants to pretend nothing happened, he needs to pretend he isn’t affected by close proximity. “I don’t mind,” he lies and sets his hands in his lap.

“Good,” Boba responds and leans his palms against Din’s ankles. Alarm bells ring in Din’s head, but he doesn’t move. “I hate to see you acting strange around me. You probably didn’t sleep well because I wasn’t there with you.”

Damn him-- Din knows exactly what Boba’s doing. He’s trying to make him break and squirm. Or at least admit that he liked it. That he liked sleeping beside Boba or  _ maybe _ that he liked kissing him. He won’t-- he can’t.

“It could also be the gravel beneath my mat that made me uncomfortable.” Din says neutrally. He’s doing his best to keep a calm exterior.

Boba pauses and leans back to sit, letting go of Din and putting some distance between them in the process. “I know that you’re trying to avoid the topic,” Boba says.

“What topic?” Din plays dumb, cocking his head to the side.

Boba looks up to the sky and lets out a long suffering sigh. “I don’t see why you’re so scared to talk about it.” His words make Din’s skin crawl. It isn’t that he’s scared, he just doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain himself.

“I am  _ not _ scared,” Din points out. “Maybe I just regret it,” he says and shakes his head, groaning in frustration when Boba’s visor continues to stare back at him. He feels himself cave beneath the stare and that makes him more angry than anything. “No,  _ no _ . You’re not getting me to talk about it! It was meaningless,” he snaps.

The silence that follows makes Din want to tear his hair out. As if Boba isn’t listening at all and Din’s just pointlessly talking into the air upon deaf ears. Finally he speaks “If it was so meaningless, then do it again,” he challenges with a nod at Din.

Din sputters and reels back, prepared to shove Boba away if he needs to. “Screw you,” he huffs.

“No, I’m serious,” Boba continues. “If it was so meaningless, then you wouldn’t care about repeating it.”

“That’s not the point… This is stupid,” Din argues defeatedly, hardly noticing when Boba shuffles himself closer. “I don’t know why I did it. Can we just-- forget it ever happened?” Din certainly won’t allow himself to entertain the thought of repeating the kiss with Boba again. He wants to, and that’s exactly why he won’t do it. 

It’s like spice-- terrible for the body and mind, but oh so tempting.

Boba shrugs finally and pats Din’s thigh firmly, then slowly retracts his hand back to his lap. “We could put our mats side by side. I think I sleep better when I’m next to you.” he says, which surprises Din. He genuinely thought Boba was poking fun at him earlier, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe Boba actually enjoys having company in sleep too and he’s doing this for himself as much as for Din.

“Um,” Din mutters and glances down at his gloves, embarrassed for jumping to conclusions. “Sure, we could do that,” he decides.

Boba nods and stands off of Din’s mat to retrieve his own. He lays it out against the edge of Din’s and takes a seat on it, then removes his helmet to set it to the side. Boba runs his hand through his hair to ruffle up his flattened curls and he glances at Din expectantly.

Din doesn’t mind removing his helmet, so he follows Boba’s lead and takes off his helm, setting it on his mat. It feels good with the cool night breeze against his neck and face and Din drops his head back to sigh and stare at the thousands of stars glittering above them in the sky. Big cities on Coruscant or Naboo don’t get nearly as bright night skies as Tatooine.

Boba reaches over to pull Din toward him with a hand hooked around Din’s bicep. Din doesn’t resist and he carefully reclines, leaning against his elbow while Boba cards his hands through Din’s hair, fixing his unruly dark waves. For the first time since their accident, things feel normal between them. Din can finally breathe without feeling like he’s suffocating under the stress of anticipation. Waiting for the other boot to drop, so to say.

Din rests his cheek against Boba’s thigh and relaxes as the other hunter massages across his scalp. It actually helps lull him to sleep, but before he can pass out, he taps Boba and sits up. “Lay down,” Din instructs, which Boba is quick to do. Feeling exhausted, Din lays down again and drops his head onto the sleep mat while Boba rolls over to face Din and scoot in closer.

He traces his thumbs across Din’s eyebrows, then under his eyes as his heavy eyelids close. He feels Boba continue his tracing along Din’s jaw and up to his temples, through his hair finally before he pulls his hands away. Even the soft touch works miracles in helping Din relax. He would return the favor if he wasn’t already dozing off.

The twin suns rise again in the morning and Din wakes with a heavy sense of anxiety on his mind. Boba is facing him, but he isn’t asleep anymore. He looks lost in thought again, staring forward at Din’s chest plate with a contemplative frown between his brows. Din doubts he slept very well, knowing how important today must be to him. A part of him feels guilty for sleeping so well, but he can’t deny that he was exhausted.

“Morning,” Boba greets and brushes his fingers through Din’s hair. Din hums and lets his eyes close briefly, soothed by the touch. That is, until Boba pulls his hand away with a judgmental curl of his lip. “You need a fresher.” he comments, which makes Din roll his eyes.

“Nice to see you too.” Din says plainly and he moves to sit up, only to be shoved back down by Boba. His back plate hits the mat and he sighs, turning his head to glance back at Boba and study the man’s scarred face.

“Don’t take it as an insult,  _ mir’sheb _ . I was only teasing,” Boba chuckles and rolls his eyes. Din makes a sour expression when he hears the clear  _ Mando’a _ slip from Boba’s lips. It isn’t the first time he’s heard it, but he’s not so familiar with others speaking the language around him now that he’s away from the Watch.

Boba notices his change in face and gives Din a firm nudge. “I was going to say that we all need the sonic,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

Din reaches out to grab the collar of Boba’s armor to hold him firmly in place. “You called me a smartass, still,” he says plainly, but Boba’s next choice of words make him choke on his own tongue.

“Then would you prefer  _ cyar’ika _ ?” he asks.  _ Sweetheart. _

It’s almost insulting how quickly Din’s mind works to replay the kiss they shared two nights ago. He lets go of Boba’s armor and glares mildly at the other bounty hunter, who props himself up on his elbow, smirking smugly. He knows that Din hasn’t explicitly said no to the new option. Din would be a dead liar if he said he didn’t like it just a little bit, but he also isn’t ready to admit that the pet name sounds sweet in Boba’s usual rasp.

It’s official. He’s going insane.

“Don’t we have a palace to ransack?” Din asks to change the subject and rises to sit up and roll his stiff shoulders with a low sigh. He picks up his helmet to place it back over his head and takes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light and lack of peripheral vision.

Boba moves to stand and stretch, but he does steal a moment to lean down and knock his forehead gently against Din’s helmet. Din hadn’t seen it coming, so he doesn’t have time to dodge it, not that he would. 

He’s not stupid and he knows that Boba definitely isn’t either. Boba knows what he’s doing and how he’s slowly going to start driving Din mad.

While Din rolls up his sleeping mat, he can hear Boba and Fennec speaking as Fennec sets up her sniper rifle and lowers her helmet over her head. Her job for now is to watch over the outside of the Palace and look for any security that may alert their approach. 

She’s laying in the dust on her stomach with one eye trained down her scope and Boba’s kneeling beside her with his helmet on and the rangefinder lowered. Din quietly waits and watches, the optics in his own helmet searching for organics in any windows or doorways that may be hidden from the naked eye.

So far, they’re in the clear.

Boba turns to Din as Fennec rises from her position and shoulders her rifle. “We’re going now. I need you at my six, Mando. Fennec, you take up our rear at a distance,” he instructs. It occurs to Din that it feels strange to hear Boba call him by the alias, but he realizes that Fennec doesn’t know his true name. Boba is making an effort to keep that information between them, knowing how protective Din is of his identity.

They leave the bikes behind at their camp and trek across the soft sands to the base of the cliffs that Hutt Palace is perched on. So far, they haven’t run into anyone. Boba takes up the front, knowing the complete ins and outs of the building after years of working inside of it. Din is on Boba’s heels while Fennec follows a few paces back with the butt of her rifle patiently tucked into her shoulder. She has eyes like macrobinoculars, so it’s a good strategy move to place her behind them.

The first challenge arises when they arrive at their entrance. It’s a little side door tucked away in the cliffs and Din is told to watch out for guards while Boba makes quick work of the control panel in the doorway. He punches in what must be a password of some kind and when the door beeps and slides open, Boba sighs in disappointment. “Of course Fortuna didn’t think to change the passwords.” 

Once inside, the air is strangely cool and just a little too damp to be comfortable. It’s dark, so Din adjusts his vision and draws his blaster as he follows Boba down the hall. He can remember the map that Boba has, but no one knows it as well as Boba himself. Before they turn a corner, Boba stops and gestures for Din to stop as well. Boba glances down the hall to where Fennec is checking the other adjacent hall, then turns to them with a nod. Their back is clear.

Din can hear grunts and chatter of a language he isn’t familiar with and he knows it’s the Gamorrean guards that Boba warned them all about. They’re clumsy, broad creatures that almost primarily fight with axes and spears. That gives the three of them a distance advantage, seeing as Din sometimes struggles with close quarter combat. 

Boba gestures for Din to follow before he rounds the corner. The guards squeal in surprise as soon as they notice the bounty hunters approaching them and they lift their weapons and begin to charge. Boba draws his blaster and shoots a bolt through the forehead of one guard while Din downs the other. 

Unfortunately, the clamor they made attracts more guards who peel into the room one by one from hidden doorways from the walls. 

Din shoots, then dodges a quick swing of an axe. He reaches over his shoulder to draw the beskar spear and uses it to parry a second attack. He shoves the guard away, but another tackles him to the floor. 

The wind is knocked out of Din’s lungs as he hits the ground hard, turning to see the guard pinned over him. He struggles, but the weight is almost too much and his spear has been knocked from his hands. There’s the sound of blaster fire and the guard on top of Din freezes and goes limp. He shoves the body off of him, trying to catch his breath, but his ribs are burning with effort. 

Fennec approaches and offers her hand out to him to help him up. It takes Din a few seconds to lift his head and realize that Boba is clearing his way through the next group of hostiles brutally. He’s too focused to notice Din’s struggle.

Boba throws a flash charge into the oncoming crowd of new hostiles and picks off each and every guard himself with his blaster and the rockets on his gauntlets. Din has to take a moment to watch in awe, still just as amazed by Boba’s fighting style than the last time he saw it.

He’s quick and forceful and Boba isn’t afraid to get up close and personal with enemies. Grappling, shoving, punching, kicking. If Din can help it, he won’t get close unless he’s absolutely sure he can win the fight. Boba, on the other hand, seems to prefer getting personal.

Once the hall is cleared, Din picks up his pace to catch up with Boba, who barely spares a glance over his shoulder to make sure Din is at his side again. Instead, he reaches out to tap Din on the arm while he punches in the previous password into the next control panel to open the door.

The hallways are segmented, but long and winding. It’s a common strategy used in military bases and hideouts to confuse trespassers and block them out with as many gates and doors as possible. The desired effect of the design is made fairly ineffective when the trespasser storming the palace is someone who used to live there and could probably navigate the halls with his eyes shut.

The next set of passageways is empty, possibly because the word of their arrival hasn’t spread yet. Din can only hear their footsteps echoing against the walls as they approach the next gate that opens up to a wide room and a set of grand stairs leading downward. Unlike the hall, the room is filled with guards and people who must be residents or friends.

As soon as they’re spotted, chaos breaks out. The guards charge them, but Din, Boba, and Fennec pick them off. The residents all scatter to run, not having any weapons of their own to protect themselves. This, however, doesn’t deter Boba. He’s a man on a hunt for revenge and he shoots down each and every person in the room. It would disturb Din if he wasn’t used to death and destruction. In fact, it reminds him of how he felt the day they took over Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.

Din and Fennec are only there to provide extra support at that point. They follow Boba down the curving stairs and Boba shoots down two more guards. They cry as they fall and limply tumble down the stairs. Din watches the set of Boba’s shoulders shift and his pace slow, and knows now that they must be approaching their main target.

Before Din sees the source of the voice, he hears a man call out Boba’s name in a heavy Huttese accent. He glances around the wide, smokey room to search for any possible dangers. The room clears of all the people loitering around, drinking, smoking, conversing. They’re either cowards who would have fled from the start, or have seen a ghost whose presence they’re wise enough to understand in this place means only death and destruction for anyone who stands in his way. 

Fennec skips down the stairs after Boba, taking down a guard who rushes her, then picks off two bounty hunters protecting either side of the throne. A Twi’lek girl chained to the throne panics in place, having nowhere to turn and run. She and Bib Fortuna are the only strangers left in the room, but Din hugs the wall to watch any other entrances as Boba strides to the center of the room.

Fennec’s rifle aims at the chain that binds the slave in place, and the tension goes suddenly slack with the flash of a blaster bolt, sending the girl stumbling to the floor, the links of her tether shattered. It doesn’t take her long before she’s on her feet again and running out the nearest entrance.

Fortuna shuffles nervously in his chair, having realized he’s completely alone and defenseless now. Din can understand the Huttese that anxiously spills out of him.  _ “I thought you were dead,” _ he laughs uncomfortably.

It’s a sore spot and Din can see the very subtle way Boba reacts negatively. He cocks his head, squares his shoulders, and tightens his grip around the handle of his EE-3 rifle. He’s a hunter stalking a terrified animal of prey.  _ “I- I’m so glad to see you,” _ Fortuna tries, attempting to get in Boba’s good graces.

It’s an attempt made in vain and Boba barely wastes a second to lift his rifle and blast a hole through the fat Twi’lek’s throat. Somehow, Din can feel just how satisfying of a kill that must be. In that moment, it is as if Boba’s revenge is his own, even if the Hutt clan never did anything to get in Din’s way in the past. 

Bib Fortuna sputters and slumps dead in his stone throne as Boba ascends the steps slowly to hurl the creature out of the seat, his seat, and carelessly onto the floor. Fennec circles the other end of the room to check the other entrances, but everyone is either dead or long gone now that there’s a new master under this roof.

The way Boba sits himself in the throne is nothing short of proud and regal. His head is high and Din knows that if he weren’t wearing his helmet, his dark eyes would gleam with satisfaction. It’s a sight attractive enough to make his knees weak where he stands.

This is the product of five years of planning come to fruition, and it feels so good to witness.

Fennec kicks over a dead body and snatches a bottle of spotchka from a side table. She uncorks the bottle and takes a generous swig, then reaches out to offer the bottle to Boba as soon as she’s close enough. Din approaches and holsters his blaster as Boba removes his helmet, sets it in his lap, and reaches for the bottle to take a victory drink.

Kriff, why is it affecting Din so much? His head feels in a fog and he can’t explain why. Could it be how Boba looks sitting upon a throne he fought to claim?

Could it be the rapidly spreading burning sensation in Din’s ribs? 

Boba reaches to offer the bottle to Din, but the way he pauses makes Din frown beneath his helmet. Like something’s wrong and Din doesn’t know it yet.

For a moment, the room looks fuzzy and tilts. Fennec drops her rifle to rush at Din in an instant as Boba does the same. It’s no use. Din’s knees buckle out from under him and he hits the iron grated floor hard, the beskar of his helmet ringing in his ears along with the blood rushing through his head. 

Two worried voices overlap “Kriff, Din,” “Mando?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:
> 
> Mir'sheb - Smartass
> 
> Cyar'ika - Sweetheart, darling

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay, Din. We're all emotional over baby Gogurt too.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
